


Plaits and Weaves

by ArgentAconit



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A little angsty at some point, Bilbo finds out about grooming and doesn't let the implications bother him, Bilbo goes through most of the company and gives them each Hobbit worthy braids, Braids, Cultural Differences, Dori is easily flustered, Dwarf Culture, Fili and Kili are little shits still, Fili really quite likes having his hair played with thank you very much, Fluff, Grooming, Hobbit Culture, Kili of course enjoys it as well but he does think that theres an order for things, M/M, Nori makes a wager and loses, Oin means well but Thorin is an arse, Ori just wants to apologize, Restless Hands, Sort of a fix it, The Company slowly accepts Bilbo, Thorin is jealous and doesn't like to share but he cant bring himself to tell Bilbo no, We found out that Thorin is no different than his sister-sons, lake town is a great place for fluff and filler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentAconit/pseuds/ArgentAconit
Summary: Bilbo misses home, he misses his armchair and his books, but right now he misses his kitchen the most. If only he had something to keep his hands busy, he wouldn't so dearly wish he could turn back and delay their quest even more.Fili is the first to take notice how restless he is, and quickly comes up with a solution. Bilbo, of course, doesn't seem to understand what he is being asked and how it would affect the company over the course of their journey. Or how it would affect one Thorin Oakenshield.





	1. Fili

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I'm not certain how frequently I'll be able to update this. I've found that chapter works are quite difficult for me, and I tend to lose speed part of the way through. Please forgive me for this, though I will try my best!
> 
> Also, it's been a few years since I've watched the movies so please bear with me if I tweak the settings a little bit. I'll try to capture the personalities of the company as best I can.

He had been moping about the entire time after they had left Rivendell. The hobbit had wanted to stay- just another two days- to enjoy a proper meal and to hide amongst the vast collection of beautiful and otherworldly books that graced the home of Lord Elrond. Ori had seemed almost as curious about the library as he had been, but the company’s distrust of elves had kept him from going there with Bilbo the one night they had stayed. If you could call sneaking away in the middle of the night staying, that is.

Instead, here they were, trudging through the sharp-pebbled paths of the mountain pass that would take them to what they had been told was now called Mirkwood. He longed for a book and a good bit of old toby to take the edge off of the ache in his thickly calloused feet. He also couldn’t figure out what to do with his blasted hands!

Should he tuck them into the dainty pockets of his waistcoat they would wiggle and flap in agitation. If he clasped them behind his back he found himself taking faster breaths just because apparently swinging your arms made walking so much easier. Crossing his arms in front of his chest gave the same response with the added image of a scowling, pacing Hobbit. What he wouldn’t do to go back to his days in the shire where he could make loaves of bread and pies and scones to get rid of this feeling.

It didn’t happen very often to him- no not at all if he were being quite honest with himself. And he was. He only made a cacophony of cakes and cookies once a week before doling them out to the many children of old Hamfast Gamgee, and the few fauntlings who dared to go near Bag End when they caught the scent of peach jam and warm crust. If he could just plait and twist a few loaves of warm, soon to be crisp bread he was sure that he could get rid of this restlessness.

No one in the company carried the basics for baking, however. He hadn’t bothered asking, certain of the looks he would receive if he begged someone for eggs, flour, butter, and milk. If only his hands had been restless in Rivendell he wouldn’t have this to deal with now. Another suffered sigh left his lips in a quiet rush, catching his walking partner’s attention again.

The elder of the two dwarf princes had decided to spare the Hobbit from Kili’s prattling, sending the archer forward to annoy their uncle as he led them through the weaving path. “Mister Baggins,” He said, catching Bilbo’s attention quite easily, “Are you so unhappy about leaving the elves that you must sigh every few steps?”

Bilbo’s tips turned pink in a quick flash of embarrassment before he cleared his throat and looked forward once again. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, “While I would have liked a chance to stay for a while longer, I fear it isn’t as simple as wanting to browse the shelves of books that had been offered to entertain me.” He wasn’t sure why he was admitting something like this to Fili, but the blonde dwarf had been quite companionable without his younger brother around him to draw out his mischievous manners.

“And what is it that would cause a Halfling to cross his arms while he is trying to climb a mountain?” Fili finally prompted when Bilbo didn’t divulge anything else.

Bilbo pursed his lips and tucked his fingers into his pockets once more, before quickly letting them drop again. The dwarf would likely laugh at his misfortune, but the expectant stare boring through his temple was starting to grate on him more than his restless fingers. “I find myself plagued with hands that refuse to rest,” He said quickly, casting a short glance to the princeling when no immediate response came.

He looked thoughtful even; face turning forward again as he thought to himself. It was after some time that he finally asked, “Is there something that your hands desire to do?” There was an underlying tone of understanding to his voice and Bilbo found himself relaxing at the fact that he wasn’t being turned into the company laughing stock right that moment.

“When this happens normally I would set to making a kitchen full of foods and desserts,” Bilbo sighed longingly, idly kicking an unaware pebble with his too-large foot, “Its nearly the season for pies and I find myself wanting to braid crusts and twist dough for loaves of bread, anything really just to wear out this blasted feeling of needles under my skin.” Bilbo made a show of shaking his hands out in front of himself and huffed.

Fili smiled, a toothy smile as Bilbo watched realization dawn over him. Naturally, that expression made him want to dash forward and accompany one of the more reasonable dwarfs. Naturally, Fili surprised him again, “Braiding, you say.” He clasped Bilbo’s shoulder in his paw of a hand and pulled the Halfling into his side. Of course, dwarves would burn so warmly in even this cold climate. Of course, Bilbo would find himself leaning into the warmth however minutely and briefly he was allowed. “Well Mister Baggins, I might have a solution for you once we make camp. Personally, I could use a little  _unwinding_  myself and wouldn’t mind the extra company.”

Before he could ask what the lion-maned dwarf meant by that, he was striding forward to talk with the older crew making up the front of their little group.

~~~

He didn’t have a chance to flag down the prince again until they had made camp. The question had been on the tip of his tongue the entire afternoon, which only irritated him further and caused his hands to ache even more for his familiar kitchen. He had been sitting idly on the cold ground near a freshly stoked fire, holding an unlit pipe between his fingers and teeth when Fili approached him again. He looked somehow less pointy than he had previously, and Bilbo realized it was because Fili had entrusted his most visible weapons to Kili for the evening.

“Are you unable to still your hands even now, Mister Baggins?” He had said cheerily, dropping down beside him and half-crossing his short legs to keep the toes of his boots out of the fire. Bilbo only gave him an accusatory glare as he drummed his thumb against the cup of his pipe. He wanted nothing more than to thump him upside the head and go to his bedroll for the evening. Especially now that Bombur and Oin looked at him rather curiously from across the fire.

“I’ll make due somehow Fili,” He groused finally, popping his all but useless pipe out from between his teeth if only to be more of a gentlehobbit toward his companion.

Fili tisked at him and held up a gloved hand as if to stop him right where he was, “Now see Mister Baggins, we’ve made a deal already and I won’t have you trying to slip out of it so quickly. There aren’t any dragons involved in this one so I wouldn’t think a Hobbit such as yourself would take back your word.” His word? When had Bilbo agreed to- whatever this was meant to be?! He snapped his mouth shut and looked at the other two dwarves that had busied themselves with making their meal, though he could still feel interest radiating off of the two.

“And what deal is it that we’ve made, Fili?” Bilbo could feel tension springing forward behind his eyes as that same mischievous grin broke out over Fili’s face. He regretted asking.

“Why you agreed to help me get these tangles out and show me what Hobbit braids look like, of course!” A sputter of disbelief sounded from somewhere across the embers and Bilbo found himself choking back a cough as though he had taken his first drag of smoke back when he was a tween. “I’ve even managed to keep a comb from those elves, and depending on how impressive your work is, I was thinking about letting you have it as payment for such a generous service.”

Bilbo could see the way that Fili’s eyes twinkles and the golden caterpillars pasted to his brow waggled in mirth and amusement. He wanted to argue against it like any other Baggins would have- respectfully and firmly so as to end any further attempt. He would have if his cursed hands didn’t betray him with another sharp drag of ache at the idea of busying themselves with what would clearly be a complicated and time-consuming task in front of him.

The Hobbit sat there for a few breaths, twisting his pipe between his fingers before a determined look was pinned to the blond dwarf beside him. “Fine. Alright, I’ll teach you about Hobbit braids. I don’t want to hear any complaining if you come out looking like a pumpkin pie.”

Somehow they had arranged themselves in a way that had Fili and himself turned away from the fire so Bilbo could see what he was meant to be doing. Did he mention that their little ensemble had grown by two? Ori and Kili had plopped themselves down on either side of them and Bilbo was sure he’d feel claustrophobic if he had it in himself. The youngest Ri brother had bashfully supplied that he’d like to learn and record some information on Hobbits for their quest, and Kili was sulking because “Mister Boggins should do my braids first because I’m the youngest!”

He had half-heartedly agreed to tend to Kili after he finished Fili’s braids and while he didn’t spring up like a sun-praising daisy, his mood did improve quite a bit. There were more than four sets of eyes on him. He could feel the curious air and the fact that he would catch Bombur whispering to Oin only proved that he was right. What was so important about this that the whole company was neglecting their tasks for the night just to watch him brush out someone’s hair?

His hands found the beads decorating Fili’s five braids and he carefully pulled each pin and opened the clasp of the largest one, being delicate enough that he didn’t pull hair unnecessarily. Already the tension was starting to ease from his shoulders as he was given a task to accomplish. Fili’s hair was thick and slightly coarse against his fingers but as far as he could tell, there were very few tangles at all to be found. He gathered the blond locks and started combing anyway.

Bilbo worked in sections, sat up on his knees and busying himself with parting out pieces from Fili’s scalp, running the comb from bottom to top until everything ran clean and straight. The dwarf had relaxed and opted for leaning back on his hands, making it even easier for Bilbo to see what he was doing. “I had expected more of a mess with how you insisted on this,” Bilbo said, small fingers deftly brushing blond strands back from Fili’s tanned face.

“Well, us dwarves do like a good grooming and you said you liked to braid. It’s a good trade for the two of us isn’t it?” Bilbo had to admit that it did help in a way. His fingers didn’t ache as much as they had earlier, and while hair was an entirely different medium than dough he had found himself accomplishing the most simple of braids with fluidity. He was working through the motions of a French braid trailing over the top half of Fili’s head to pin back the stray hairs that dangled in the dwarf’s face when Ori spoke.

“What is the significance of this braid in your culture, Mister Baggins?” He had asked shyly. Bilbo felt the faint smile on his face as he lifted Fili’s clasp bead into place to hold the design there.

“Well, Hobbit folk don’t place too much importance on each style of braid, Master Ori,” He said, checking to make sure his work was even and didn’t pull uncomfortably on the prince’s scalp. “This one is just a braid to keep the hair out of your face for the day. The lasses of the Shire like it for how simple the pattern is, and for how little it pulls. Most male Hobbits won’t wear their hair long enough for braiding so I’m afraid most of the ones I know are for decorating dishes and keeping my cousins happy when I visit Tookburough.”

The scratching of a quill against parchment was a pleasant sound in his ear as Ori took notes while he spoke. “Tookburough?” He questioned curiously.

“Ah, the area of my mother’s side of the family, in West Farthing. It’s a part of the Shire as well, though I suppose you could say it is more of an estate than it is a town. I have many little cousins hidden away there. An exciting bunch of Hobbits really, set far apart from the Bagginses in many ways.” Bilbo worked on a four strand braid on the side of Fili’s head, fingers weaving golden strands through one another. He’d like to think it complimented Fili’s hair much better than the three strand plait that he wore earlier.

When asked he supplied that it was a simple basket weave and that few lasses wore the style outside of parties and special events. It took some time to learn, you know. It did look delightful when used to decorate sweets as well, and Bilbo often remembered watching Belladonna working the pattern into nearly everything she made, even her needlework. He remembered helping his mother place the braids in her hair when she grew too weary to do it herself. He remembered how many things he had made over the following years that always worked in the Took-favored braid if only to honor her after she had passed.

“Would this be considered the family style for Tooks?” Ori asked, trying to wrap his head around what Bilbo was saying.

The Hobbit clasped another bead in place and hummed in thought. “Well, I suppose I’ve never paid much attention to the hairstyles of each family. Tooks are always getting themselves into trouble, stirring up stories and scandalizing themselves. I suppose you could say that their curly hair requires quite a few extra braids to keep it respectable, though I only ever see that when a wedding is taking place. Tooks wear maybe one or two braids- simple ones at that I’d say.

“Bagginses prefer to look more respectable and presentable. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins often wears her hair up off of her shoulders, but she doesn’t braid it in the slightest. If Tooks are anything to go off of, the Sackville Hobbits have even more dreadfully curly hair.

"I suppose you could say that the Baggins Hobbits will wear quite a few braids. We do enjoy a good weave and while my mother was a Took she did take on some of the braids my father agreed with.” Talking about hair for so long was really quite strange to him but the small ring of dwarves that had gathered around him seemed to be enraptured at the revelation that there were family styles within such simple folk families.

Bilbo was on his last plait at this point, Fili had started to nod off some time ago and a warm fondness had bloomed in Bilbo’s chest. Who knew that one of the two most rambunctious people of their company could be put to sleep if someone had just played with his hair? His mother must be grateful at that and if he ever had the chance to meet her he would like to ask if it was always as simple. “Mister Baggins,” Ori’s voice piped in again, even more shy and embarrassed as he twisted his quill between his fingers, “Does that mean that you’re marking Fili as part of the Took family?”

“Oh gracious no,” Bilbo answered with a laugh. It pulled a frown across Ori’s face as Bilbo clipped the last bead into place, “You could say its only a coincidence because I know the plaits that my mother used. I’m doing this because Fili insisted on learning about it, and it seems he quite enjoys having someone comb his hair. Poor lad is dead asleep already.” Soft snores could be heard from the prince, leaning back on locked elbows with his chin tucked to his chest. Kili snickered at the revelation and nudged his brother awake.

“Come on Fi, let's get you some stew and send you to bed. Or maybe you should skip dinner, you might fall asleep in your bowl,” The younger prince teased. Fili just swatted at his brother who ducked away before stretching his arms high above his head. He felt the braids that Bilbo had done for him and grinned widely, the smile stretching to his half-asleep eyes.

“I guess Hobbits are pretty skilled at braiding. Looks like you’ve earned that comb there in your hands.” He pointed to the item Bilbo flipped between his fingers. It was a simple comb made of pale white wood with delicate looking silver teeth and Bilbo had to admit that it did fit well between his fingers. It looked like it would even fit his pocket and as he focused he realized his restless hands had become steady once again. “And our original task has been accomplished too!”


	2. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Kili might be portrayed slightly differently than his character in the movies but who can blame me when he has such an innocent and open look about him when he appears at the doorstep of Bag End?

The second time Bilbo had been conned into braid the hair of a dwarf had been their second night in the mountain pass. They were cradled into the frigid, cupped palm of the mountain face. A solitary, long boulder overhead and a sheer cliff face below them. It made for cramped sleeping quarters but it was better than being stuck out in the downpour. The ground was still damp but their blankets made excellent waterproofing against it even if that ruined their chances of staying warm from the cold bite of the wind.

 

Nary had a fire graced their group that night, though try they did to build one from the wet, smoking branches they had managed to pull from the mountainside. Bilbo was desperate for the warmth and light that came from the pit and had tried multiple times to light a waterlogged pinecone before giving up as the rest of the company had nearly an hour ago. Small family groupings were already made; each little set huddled for warmth against the back wall, eating the staled bread they had taken from the elves. Quiet murmurings between each of them helped to drown out the rain while making Bilbo feel even more alone on this journey.

 

Bilbo accepted his fate to sleep by himself that night and stripped off his once beautiful red waistcoat with the intention of wringing out as much water from the heavy material as he could manage. Something fell from the pocket with a gentle metallic thrum and before Bilbo could reach down to recollect it in his frozen fingers, a familiar paw swiped it up into a gloved palm, “Careful now, Mister Boggins,” Bilbo pursed his lips and tried not to correct the youngest prince. ‘It’s Baggins,’ he sighed mournfully in his head.

 

The comb was flipped over between stubby fingers and Bilbo found himself itching to reach for it again before Kili’s eyes met his own, “You still haven’t braided my hair. I feel hurt,” A childish pout touched Kili’s lips and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

 

“And how did you expect me to have done that last night when you ran off with Fili after supper to wrestle?” He replied. He must have said something that Kili enjoyed because his face nearly cracked in two.

 

“Then you’ll do it? You can’t take it back now; you said you would have done it last night. You should do my braids tonight then. See, we’re already stopped for the night and there isn’t a fire so you can’t cook supper either. I’ll sit extra still for it too, I promise,” Bilbo held up a hand and took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts after the fast-paced words spewed from the scruffy dwarf in front of him.

 

“If it means that you will be quiet for a few minutes then fine,” He watched Kili bounce and skip around what little open space had been left in their camp before the dwarf came back, entire body wagging like an over-excited puppy. His mouth flapped open and closed as he tried to thank Bilbo and stay silent at the same time before he quickly sat down and turned his back to the Hobbit expectantly.

 

Bilbo looked at the quiver filled with ‘borrowed’ elvish arrows and the dwarvish short sword strapped to his back while he draped his coat over the top of his pack to dry, “You’ll need to take off your weapons if you expect me to do anything with your hair.”

 

“Right!” Kili put the comb in his lap and scrambled for the buckles holding his weapons to him. Bilbo knelt down and busied his hands with finding the hinge of the first bead he had seen, and once the weapons were out of the way he sat properly. Each hair bead was carefully presented over Kili’s shoulder so the dwarf could hold onto them, and again Bilbo found the comb returned to his fingers to groom a prince. He shouldn’t make a habit out of this.

 

“Will you give me something different than what you gave Fili?” It was a curious question with an underlying request and Bilbo found himself wondering what he would do as he gathered much shorter brunette hair behind Kili’s shoulders.

 

“We’ll just have to see what I come up with, now sit still.” He set about picking out the loose leaves and gently combing the tangles from Kili’s tresses, which greatly pleased the boy in front of him. At least Bilbo wasn’t rough like his Amad when she was angry, and Bilbo laughed when he heard the words as they unconsciously slipped from Kili’s lips.

 

“Even I know the pain of a well-placed tug, Master Kili. Fauntlings suffer through the grooming of their parents for quite some years, and as I’m rather tender headed I do try to give the same care I would expect if anyone were to ever try and comb my curls.” Bilbo encouraged Kili to tip his head back so he could comb through the top of his head and the archer did so diligently, closing his eyes as Bilbo pulled the comb’s teeth over his scalp lightly.

 

His hair was wet but in some ways that helped Bilbo do what needed to be done, especially without the light of the fire to illuminate his work as it had last night with Fili. The Hobbit stuck his tongue between his teeth as he began on the same French braid he had done on the elder prince, helping to pull it back and secure the hair away from Kili’s face. He speculated that it would do the archer even better so that his hair wouldn’t tangle in his bowstring.

 

Patiently, Kili handed him the clasp that rested against the back of his head- to which Bilbo thanked him. Mostly he thanked Kili for the simple fact that the brunette hadn’t closed the bead while it had been in his hand. He clipped the silver band into place and sat back to ponder what he could do for the other braids. Kili didn’t have nearly as many as Fili and he was almost grateful at that revelation. In fact, Kili only had the one braid trailing down the back of his head.

 

Bilbo’s fingers reached out to gather the hair dangling from the clasp and he separated it into two pieces. Before long he was taking small clusters from one side and tucking it to the inside edge of the other, braiding in a simple fishtail pattern. He could feel eyes resting on him again but didn’t dare to turn his attention from the project in front of him- certain that Kili would undoubtedly pout if he found out Bilbo had been distracted.

 

“It may not be much,” He said as he threaded the end of the braid through the last bead, taking extra care to secure it properly, “Seeing as how you’ve only managed to wear one braid so far. I don’t think I could do anything more intricate right now either, it feels as though my fingers will freeze over at any moment.” He released the braid and Kili’s curious fingers were immediately set upon it to feel the pattern that had been used. He was light-handed even in his excitement and Bilbo was pleased that it still remained intact when Kili’s hand dropped away.

 

The blue-eyed hobbit hadn’t even realized it when Kili’s hands slipped around his own until a shocked intake of breath sounded from the other, “Mister Boggins, your hands are nearly as cold as ice itself!” He breathed.

 

Hadn’t he just said as much? Kili lumbered up onto his feet and pulled Bilbo with him despite the Hobbits protests and drug him toward his brother and their packs, “This really isn’t necessary!” He said voice strung high as he was settled between the two bothers in the pocket of warmth Fili had been sitting in earlier. It felt almost heavenly after the constant pelting of cold rain, and while he considered getting up the position would have made it far too cumbersome to try.

 

Fili had gone so far as to share his fur-lined coat with him just before Kili shoved a hunk of bread into Bilbo’s hands as he sat down close to the Hobbit- quite literally dwarfing him in size. He looked like a small human child tucked between two overly hairy tweens. Bilbo could hardly complain at this point, and his bare shins were grateful for the warmth of his own bedroll being tucked around him once Fili called for someone to throw it over to them.

 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Bilbo took a bite of the bread and looked around at the Company as he ate, taking a specific interest in the way Thorin sat so stiffly at the edge of camp, staring down into the valley stretched out to the side of their path. “You’re welcome to cuddle with us for the next few nights Mister Boggins. We wouldn’t want our burglar to lose his hands to the cold!”

 

Bilbo sighed around his bread and curled his toes into the wrinkles of his cover, “It’s Baggins, Kili. _Baggins_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to go ahead and put Kili's chapter up since I won't have internet for a while. I hope this made for a fun read despite how much shorter it is compared to the first chapter! I'll try to work on the next while I'm offline.
> 
> Thank you for reading! (:


	3. Bofur

“He’s been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come- he has no place amongst us.” Bilbo knew that much already but to have heard someone- especially the leader of the group- say as much had stung more than the sharp rocks stabbing at his hands and feet. Of course, he knew he wasn’t a part of the company. He knew that a gentle creature such as himself shouldn’t have hoped to find that kind of comradery here with such hardened dwarves.

 

The words had been replaying in his mind ever since they made it to the cave. The other dwarves hadn’t bothered to show him a sense of kinship. Not even Fili and Kili extended an invitation to him as they clutched to each other in the dark. Some part of him knew that it was because they were making sure their families were safe and sound. Another, more dominant part of him, said that they were following their leader’s example and exiling him. He told himself instead that they could sense his poor mood and wanted to give him space to think. It didn’t help.

 

Bilbo pulled his wool blanket tighter around himself and watched the flashes of lightning that lit the cave for brief seconds from the mouth of the cave. He wanted to go back to Rivendell, again; this time not so much to wear out his hands but to get away from the group and lick his wounds.

 

“You look lost, Bilbo,” The Hobbit jumped and turned his head toward the voice, spying the faint outlines of the most companionable dwarf who subsequently should be on watch right now. He offered a slight smile, though he wasn’t sure if Bofur could see it or not.

 

“At this time I believe I am,” He replied. He pressed his feet a little further into the sand under them and found himself looking in the general direction of Kili, Fili, and Thorin’s little ‘nest’ they had made in the opposite side of the cave. “I thought I had been making progress with them, but I guess it’s not quite as easy to befriend dwarves as I had hoped it would be.”

 

Bofur let out a weary sigh as he sat down beside him and Bilbo made room so he wouldn’t have to press his shoulders into the sharp rocks at his left, “Well, I think tonight isn’t the best night to be basing that idea off of. We all narrowly avoided our deaths tonight- you and me both included. If you hadn’t of shoved me out of the way I believe I would have been crushed into jelly after all.” His tone had turned friendly and even a little teasing at the notion of the trolls getting their wish.

 

Bilbo ducked his head and sat his arms on his knees. It had been true. Bofur would likely have been dead on impact but Bilbo had been quick enough to push the kindly dwarf to the side as they all rushed to their doom only a few hours earlier. “I think you would have been fine if I hadn’t, Bofur. You dwarves are fast on your feet. If you hadn’t been focused on keeping me against the stone giant’s knee, I know that flat spot on the mountain wouldn’t have been a problem for you in the slightest.”

 

“Aye,” He admitted, and Bilbo could feet a broad hand resting over the space between his shoulders, “We’ve got to keep our burglar safe though, especially since he’s such a little thing and he can so easily be lost.” There was that word again. Lost.

 

Bilbo swallowed and pursed his lips tight for a while, “Perhaps I should have stayed in Bag End.” The hand at his back softened and Bilbo lifted his head to let out a deep breath he had been holding, “All I’ve done since we left the shire is cause troubles for you all. I’ve cost you a herd of ponies, and some I’ve cost them their pride. I’ve insulted the lot of you, and my weakness has forced you to lay down your arms only a few weeks into the journey. I’ve never traveled this far from home, and it seems as though there is always a dwarf near me to make sure I don’t stray from the path.”

 

Bofur’s hand stretched around to his opposite shoulder and somehow Bilbo felt more grounded in that moment. Of course, someone would have to see to consoling him as well. A disdainful smile stretched across his mouth and Bilbo blinked back no small amount of tears, “I miss my home. I miss my books and my armchair. I miss the lazy hills and the place where I belong. Here I don’t have that. In my packing, I’ve left behind the things that would remind me the most of Bag End. At the time I thought I would avoid homesickness if I did but now I realize how foolish I had been.”

 

He lifted his hand out from the folds of his cover to try and discreetly wipe away the water that blurred his vision, “If we hadn’t wanted you with us I’m sure more than our illustrious leader would have said as much, Bilbo. We’ll get you back to your little hobbit hole before too long. We’re getting closer to our goal with every day. Just hold out for a while longer.”

 

Bofur had a surprisingly gentle tone to his voice and Bilbo realized why he made such a good toymaker, why he might have chosen that profession over the others. He nodded his head and pat the dwarf’s knee thankfully, trying not to think about the lonely mountain too much. After all, he was there as dragon bait basically. Who was to say he would survive that trip? “Thank you, Bofur. I just hope that we all make it back in one piece.”

 

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, and Bilbo found his loneliness had ebbed away along with the cold. The left side of his body was pleasantly warm and he was distinctly reminded of the night before where his two princely dwarves had kept him warm. He felt silly for missing them after a single night between their warmths but the two youngsters had been the first little family to take him into their folds on this journey. The dwarf beside him now had been plenty friendly enough but was always preoccupied with Bifur and Bombur. Keeping one out of the food supplies and the other out of fights when no one tried to understand the apparently archaic form of Khuzdul he had reverted to.

 

Bofur had turned to a little chunk of green wood he was whittling on and Bilbo found himself entranced with the way his knife could pull out such fine details in the dark. “It’s a lot harder than it looks,” The dwarf said, laughter lining his voice. He swept shavings out of his lap and passed the half-finished project to Bilbo so he could better examine it.

 

Bilbo rotated the figure between his fingers and felt the details of a pointed hat and messy long hair. He smiled as the light illuminated Gandalf’s form sticking out of a little chunk of wood, “I think our wizard would be quite proud of this if he gets to see it.” He looked over to Bofur and noticed in the next flare of light that one of the three braids Bofur ore was frayed and half unraveled from his bead.

 

Bilbo returned the wood to Bofur’s hand and cleared his throat slightly, “Bofur, I don’t know if anyone has mentioned it to you but… One of your beads looks to be trying to escape.”

 

He watched as the dwarf immediately lifted his hands up to check on the beads, the next flare of light gave Bilbo a glimpse of his frown as Bofur tugged the bead free without any resistance, “That it is. Thank you for that. Bifur and Bombur would have yelled at me if I lost it.” Bofur sheathed his knife and pulled his hat from his head so he could untangle the braid and redo it only to pause. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask if there was something wrong, “Actually, I think I could use some help with this. Consider it as you repaying me a favor.”

 

Bilbo sputtered at the notion that he owed Bofur a favor at all, “And what favor would I be returning to you?” He asked, leaning away as though he had been scorched.

 

He could almost feel the smirk that Bofur used when he answered, “Why the favor of loaning you my shoulder to cry on, Bilbo. I don’t offer that to just anyone, you know. You looked absolutely miserable earlier, I couldn’t resist coming to rescue you from yourself. I can’t imagine how much the boys’ll tease you if they were to find out.”

 

An indignant huff left Bilbo at the words, but soon after he found himself smiling anyway. Bofur had managed to soothe his worries, and while he felt as though the toymaker was threatening him with blackmail he had a feeling he wouldn’t actually follow through with it.

 

“Alright, alright. Turn around here; I’ll help you hide the fact that you nearly lost your bead so your brother and cousin won’t have your head. I hope you don’t mind if I do what you’ve already got for the other two. I think it’d be best if I left it looking similar so you won’t be caught.” Bofur’s muffled laugh answered him and Bilbo felt blindly for the loose strands of the other’s hair.

 

He worked quickly to plait in the simple three strand braid back into place and managed to miraculously pull the end of it through the procured hair ornament without too much fuss or frizz. “There you are.”

 

Bilbo tugged on the end of the braid one last time to make certain he had it in place and then turned back to find the cover that had slipped away from him. The stale air in the cave was quite cold after all, and Bilbo still felt damp behind the ears. “Bilbo, what’s that?” He heard.

 

Bofur had shifted into a standing position beside him and Bilbo hummed in question before looking to where the dwarf pointed. It was Bilbo’s pack, laying just a mere foot away from them but that wasn’t what had caught their attention. No, it was the little letter opener as everyone had decided to call it. A faint blue light emanated from the sheath and Bilbo felt his stomach sink, “Oh dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snuck one last little chapter into the story before my net cut out for the next couple of days. We'll see who comes next once I'm back online perhaps! Do any of you have suggestions for our next Dwarf victim? (:


	4. The P(r)incer Maneuver

Everything that had happened in the goblin tunnels had absolutely drained him. Bilbo was certain that as soon as they made camp tonight he wouldn’t be able to do anything other than collapse where he was and sleep until someone finally woke him the next morning. And then the wargs and orcs descended upon them, renewing their energy with adrenaline and the desire to protect and survive.

They had been treed, nearly set aflame, and some had almost fallen to their deaths. Bilbo almost became the new decoration piece for Azog’s grotesque arm and by no sense of good luck had he been scraped off of the plateau hanging over the edge of the forest before the pale orc could get to him. The talons prickled at his skin and reminded him of the purple splotches smattering his torso, but his worries still fell on their unconscious leader, held in the grip of another eagle in front of him.

The Carrock had been a blessing to them all when finally they were sat on solid ground once again, and Bilbo stood with baited breath as Gandalf muttered some spell over Thorin’s prone body. His stomach twisted itself into knots as each set of boots thumped down onto the sandy stones behind him until finally Thorin had taken a deep lungful of air and opened his eyes.

The dwarves rushed forward to celebrate Thorin’s survival, but their little party didn’t last long at all. Bilbo could see Bofur holding back the youngest pair of dwarves as Thorin yelled at him and reaffirmed his opinion of Bilbo. Weakling. An Outsider. Not one of his Company. It took everything in the Hobbit to stay standing as each word punched out the pleasant feeling that had been in him moments ago- reigniting the aches and burns through his body. Was this what he nearly sacrificed himself for?

Thorin stood a breath away from him and Bilbo still couldn’t manage to take his eyes off of the hexagonal buttons of metal sewn to his tunic. “I’ve never been more wrong in my life,” The words didn’t register until after Biblo felt the king’s arms slung around him in a painfully tight embrace. He sank against the Dwarf in front of him and closed his eyes, tangling his fingers in the fur coat Thorin had been wearing since the first day of their quest. He smelt of blood and smoke and warg and goblin but Bilbo didn’t care. He pressed his face into the front of Thorin’s shoulder and held onto him tightly for as long as he was allowed.

Quiet whispers broke out behind them and reluctantly Bilbo released his hold on the taller dwarf. He had to shift his weight back onto his own feet but the whispers weren’t about the two of them, no, they were about the distant spire touching the edge of the sunrise. He turned to lock his gaze on their end goal; on the Lonely Mountain. It stretched so far up that Bilbo wondered if he would be able to stand at the peak and feel the clouds rush by his face. They were so close.

~~~

They would be going to someone’s home. Bilbo had been too distracted by the walk down the Carrock and by the clean, slow ripples of the river in front of them to really remember what all Gandalf had said about it. The wizard said that he would be splitting apart from them once they made it there and that, that Bilbo did remember. More than once had Gandalf saved their party and he found himself dreading the idea of splitting away from the grey wizard anytime soon. They always seemed to get themselves into a great deal of trouble any time that happened. Trolls and Goblins had been a great start to that list.

His worries were set at ease when Thorin declared they would make camp here at the lazy bend of the river to clean, rest, and eat. Gandalf would stay for a while longer, and their injured members would get a chance to tend to their wounds. Of course, he hadn’t expected the whole company to drop everything they had managed to bring along with them and strip stark naked to run into the river’s cold waters. His ears flushed bright red and Bilbo quickly averted his eyes, turning his back on the group as they yelled about finally having a good scrub.

He could hear Fili and Kili dunking one another behind him and though the thought terrified him, he found a fond smile on his face anyway. Of course, the two young dwarves would try to kill one another after facing off with so many enemies. Bilbo heard Ori whining about Dori’s mothering as the silver-haired dwarf scrubbed a block of soap against his youngest brother’s back and shoulders. “You stick of goblin, Ori now sit still!” Bilbo laughed and found himself hunting for a few spare twigs hanging around the pebbled shore to make a small fire.

Only after the dwarves had returned from the river did Bilbo excuse himself to bathe and prod at the wounds on his body. The soles of his feet were burnt, but thankfully it didn’t go deep, so he knew he’d be able to keep walking if they had to travel more today. However, the rest of his body didn’t seem to fair as nicely. Purple, green and blue swaths of color covered most of his chest and slowly flattening-stomach. Scrapes of various sizes peppered his limbs, and if he twisted his body a certain way he could feel the stings of other scrapes along his back. That fall into the bottom of the ravine had definitely done a number on him, but he was thankful that at least nothing appeared to be broken.

His feet sank into the soft sand behind the boulder he used for privacy and he leaned against the cold stone to gather his thoughts and his nerves. To say that the Hobbit was uncomfortable with the idea of being in such a wide body of moving water would be…. Well, wholly accurate! Even this close to the edge of the river the water easily came up to his navel and if he had it his way he wouldn’t venture a step further! He made a quick move to rub the cold water against his skin, wiping away layers of old sweat, dirt, blood and whatever disgusting muck had been in Gollum’s lair. It stung against his skin and numbed him quickly.

Instead of dallying about in the waters as the rest of the company had, Bilbo dunked his head under the waters and scrubbed at his curls to loosen the caked in blood and who knew what else that had made its home there. The Hobbit swore he could still find Troll snot if he felt around for it. He rose back out of the waters with a long inhale and looked around briefly before doing it once more to make certain he had gotten at least the worst of it out.

His heart was thundering by the time he reappeared and his body shuddered at the sudden chill, but Bilbo was fast to drag himself as far from the water’s surface as he could. Hobbits and rivers don’t usually mix well, though thankfully Bilbo did at least know how to swim. He frowned at the idea of stepping back into dirty clothing but pushed his large feet through the leg holes of his pants and trousers anyway. They could have used a good scrub, as well as his shirt, vest and coat but he resigned himself to waiting until he could do so in peace- and preferably in a bath.

“Bilbo!” The happy cry from Kili shocked him when he finally returned to camp and he looked up to see that the dwarves were still mostly in single layers, drying out by his little fire and stretched on the stones to sunbathe while the rest of their clothes still lay scattered about. “Did your comb manage to survive the fight?”

Of course, it had, Bilbo had found himself hunting it down in his pockets on the way to the river and was pleased to say it was still whole outside of a long fissure arching over one of the flat sides. “Leave it to the youngest dwarf to worry about such a silly thing as this little comb,” Bilbo sighed as he pulled it from the pocket of his coat slung over one arm.

He passed it to the brunette and settled down on the edge of a generously flat rock near the group. Thorin had disappeared while he was gone but Bilbo just assumed their leader had gone to bathe as well.

Quickly he found his knees graced with the sight of two very ‘innocent’ looking dwarves who had somehow managed to stretch their stocky bodies over the pebbles below them and sit their chins on either kneecap. Bilbo frowned and glanced between the two of them before realization dawned on him. He kept silent even as those innocent looks slowly verged on the edge of tearful, soulful expressions, “Please, Bilbo?” Fili said.

How was he meant to say no to such a look and tone? He folded his hands against the red coat held to his stomach and felt his ears pinken when he could hear chuckles from the older dwarves of the group. “If I were you I’d give in, laddie,” Balin called while he looked over his weapons. There was a twinkle of humor in his eyes when Bilbo glanced up, his frown tugging further down as he saw shoulder shaking with suppressed laughter, “You’ve got yourself a pair of wolfhound pups there and once they have their target in sight there isn’t a thing on this green earth that will take them away from it.”

“Is this something I should be expecting from you two for the rest of the journey?” Bilbo asked, getting a vigorous nod from both of them which jarred his knees and scrubbed bristly hairs through the thinning material of his trousers.

“’Fraid so,” Kili said, a grin stretching his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re much better at it than our uncle and Fili won’t let me do his side braids. He hits me if I try to touch them.” The brunette pouted at his blonde brother and Bilbo watched as his eyes rolled in return.

“That’s because you always pull too hard! I’m not one of your bowstrings!”

“Alright, alright now boys,” Bilbo lifted both hands to stop the quarrel that was about to start right on his knees and managed to get their attention before patting each on the top of the head testing how wet their hair was. “I don’t know why you’re both so insistent but as long as you don’t try to trick me into burglarizing anything else on our quest I’ll see what we can do about all of this.” The way their eyes lit up like it was the first day of Yule warmed his heart. It reminded him of his little cousins back in the shire and well if this turned out to be indulgent for him as much as it was for them, who could be upset about that?

“We’ll do Kili’s first since his hair is mostly dry.” Kili popped up off of his knee with his arms stretched far over his head in victory, and Fili moped against Bilbo’s shin in defeat.

“His hair always dries before mine though!” Bilbo gave him an affectionate rub over his scalp and held back the grimace that threatened to overtake him when he twisted his arm the wrong way.

“You’ll just have to get used to that I’m afraid. I don’t think we’ll be doing this only after baths so stop your pouting… Why don’t I make you a deal instead,” Fili perked up at that and Bilbo sat back again. He tucked his coat beside him and stretched his hand out for the comb he had given Kili, “Whichever one of you finish your chore for the night first- without rushing through it and making a bigger mess out of it- will go first on those other nights. Now, how does that sound?”

A fire lit between the two boys and before he knew what had happened, the brothers were clasping forearms with a determined look. “I won’t lose to you, brother,” Bilbo laughed as soon as the words left Kili’s lips before the younger dwarf was settled between his knees, still holding that determined posture.

It didn’t take very long for Bilbo to tend to either one of them, but if he passed the comb through their hair longer than needed, no one complained about it. In fact, the rest of the company seemed glad that the two troublemakers were subdued under ‘the magic of a Hobbit’s comb’. Thorin frowned in their general direction when he finally reappeared, but Bilbo was pleased to note that while he was still limping, he looked much cleaner and less battle-worn than he had before. If Bilbo didn’t know any better he’d say that the king had even gone so far as to scrub the blood out of his coats. The Hobbit wished he had thought of that himself but as they had lost their packs in the caves, he didn’t have anything else to wear while his clothes dried.

Once he unleashed the brothers they went back to their mound of haphazard clothes and started redressing, leaving Bilbo to himself once again. He took that time to stretch out against the sun-warmed stone he had been sitting on and let out a blissful sigh as his aching body was given a chance to relax. Despite the events of that morning, Bilbo felt like today was the turning point of his relationship with the rest of the dwarves. They seemed warmer to him and while he would enjoy a chance to sit down and share a little pipe-weed with them he found himself dozing on his perch.

“You spoil them,” He jerked in shock at the deep tone that washed over him and winced as the movement tugged on deep bruises. He blinked his eyes open and shielded his face from the sunlight so he could look upon one Thorin Oakenshield, glowering down at him in only half as many layers as he normally wore.

Bilbo swallowed and wiggled his fingers slightly in his anxiety, “Well, if it keeps the rest of the company sane, there isn’t any harm in it,” He replied. Thorin’s frown turned into pursed lips behind his short mustache and suddenly he wondered if he had said something that insulted the eldest Durin before he found himself sitting with more company on his now suddenly too narrow rock.

“I suppose so.” Bilbo flicked his tongue over his lips as Thorin leaned his forearms on his knees. This was as close as he had been to the king since standing over his shoulder at his dining table in Bag End. No, that was a lie. They had been closer than that only a few hours ago. He could feel a flush of color creeping up his neck at the memory and tried not to linger on how he had felt in the circle of Thorin’s arms. “If it weren’t so clear what you thought of my nephews I would be questioning your intentions.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up at that. His intentions? “My what? I’m not quite sure I understand what it is you’re implying, Master Dwarf.”

Thorin looked over his shoulder at him and Bilbo found himself sitting up so they could talk a little more comfortably. He waited patiently for Thorin to explain but no explanation came. If anything it looked like the dwarf at his side purposefully intended to keep his mouth clamped shut on the matter. “Is there something inappropriate about combing their hair for them? No one else has mentioned anything about it, and as far as I’m aware they’re just seeking out affection like any young creature normally does.”

Broad shoulders tensed beside him and Bilbo stopped talking with the hopes that he would finally get a reason for why he should stop grooming the princes. A suffered sigh left Thorin before he dipped his head down, “Grooming is…. An intimate thing. It is not something for you to take lightly, Master Burglar. Should anyone else ask for your… assistance, you should ensure that their intentions line up with your own.” It looked like it almost physically pained Thorin to explain anything like this to someone as simple as a Hobbit. Perhaps it was painful in a way. Bilbo didn’t know if Thorin had a lover or anything of the sort and perhaps bringing up something that was so… secretive to the dwarves would undoubtedly bring forth memories of whoever Thorin had left behind for his quest.

“I… see,” Bilbo replied. He laced his fingers between his legs and bobbed his head once, curtly. “Well, I can assure you that Fili and Kili had no such intentions. I think the boys were just seeking out attention that they’ve been deprived of since joining this journey. Kili mentioned his mother at one point. They probably just miss her. If I can give them some level of comfort while they’re away from her at least it will feel like I’m doing something right.”

“Careful, Master Baggins,” Thorin’s tone was lighter and Bilbo turned his eyes to him only to be caught up in one of those rare smiles that their leader wore. Really, Bilbo wanted to know what Thorin would look like if he were always happy. If that crease between his brows would ever disappear completely, “One might think you were turning into a mother hen, one as bad as Dori even.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have a soft spot for the youngest dwarves of the group. I couldn't help making a separate chapter where they were both involved, and where better to put it than right after a fierce battle with Azog the Defiler? Let me have my sweet happy dwarrows!
> 
> And was Thorin really off to go bathe or did he have other things to capture his attention? Perhaps he was ensuring the safety of one curly-haired hobbit? (;


	5. Dori

By the time everyone had made it to Beorn’s house it had grown dark and the air was chilled against his skin. With Gandalf’s quick wit and pleasant conversation, he had managed to sneak them all in until the full Company was seated at a table far too large for all of them. Sweet bread and bits of creamy cheese were passed around and devoured like they hadn’t had a proper meal in days. To be honest, they hadn’t.

 

Bilbo often found himself being gifted bits of cheese from Bombur, and Kili kept insisting that he try the honey, pushing a jar full of comb and golden syrup at him until he dipped some of his bread into it. He was reminded of when the dwarves made their first appearance in his home, and couldn’t stop his smile as he thought, ‘ _well this time at least it isn’t my larder that they’re emptying!’_

 

He kicked his feet happily under the table and sipped at the oversized pint of milk that Beorn had poured for him, trying to savor the meal as best as he could after so many nights of dried beef and stale bread. He even ventured for the basket of fruits, stealing himself a nice set of green apples- one of which he bit into on his way back to his seat, humming at the tart taste that coated his tongue.

 

He wanted to stay there for a few weeks if it just meant being able to eat like this. The others would likely get tired of a virtually meatless diet but Bilbo could see himself finally getting back into the Hobbit lifestyle if they stayed. The thought of having his seven meals a day again made hunger burn low in his belly. He’d have to see if he could convince Beorn to show him to the river so he could fish up a few silver-scaled fish for dinner one night before they left. With any luck, Dwalin wouldn’t make off with them this time!

 

Dinner finished quickly enough, and Bilbo found himself to be alone at the table, hugged up to a basket that once held loaves of crisp herb-filled bread, picking at the leftover slices that had been looked over. Groups of dwarves scattered themselves around the lodge, a handful at the hearth, a dash of them in one corner tending weapons, others searching out the best place for them to lay their heads for the night. Bilbo finished the slice that he had been working on and excused himself from the table just as Beorn’s animal friends came to clear it. Still, Bilbo was enchanted at the sight of them delicately taking dirty napkins, bowls, and mugs from the tabletop and disappearing with them.

 

He slipped outside after making sure he could find the mischievous sons of Durin by the fireplace, undoubtedly listening to one of Balin’s many glamorous war stories about their uncle. It felt good to know that they could let down their guard after so many rough days on the road, and Bilbo found himself looking wistfully over the meadow of fragrant flowers and crops Beorn had managed to plant. Their host had left to corroborate their story some few hours ago and Bilbo just hoped to all of the gods that he found what he wanted to know.

 

A throat cleared behind him and Bilbo jumped, whipping his head around to see none other than Bofur leaning against one of the porches supports just up the stairs, “Do ya need saving from yourself again, Bilbo?” He asked, and Bilbo found himself returning the friendly smile that hung crookedly on Bofur’s face.

 

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary this time, Bofur. Just came out for some fresh air and to enjoy the scenery before it gets too dark for me to see.” Bilbo turned back to the meadows and felt Bofur step down to sit beside him. The toymaker had become a close friend over the past few days and Bilbo didn’t mind having his company out here.

 

“Thought you might have tried to run away again. Guess I shouldn’t have to worry too much about that if you’re so enamored by these little flowers. They remind ya of home?” Bilbo pulled his coat in closer to his body and felt his ears perk at the sound of Bofur pulling his whittling from his tunic.

 

“Well, we don’t have nearly as many flowers in the shire,” Bilbo admitted, his eyes gaining a faraway look to them as he thought of home, “But I do see a few strains here that we have back home. Some lilies and poppies here and there. If I thought it would survive the quest and the trip back I think I would have asked to dig up some bulbs of one of the Mums Beorn has here. The last frost at the start of the year killed off the ones I had planted by my front door. My mother really loved watching them bloom in the spring.”

 

“If we leave here on good terms maybe you can ask him on the way back.”

 

Bilbo chuckled and tucked his fingertips into his pockets, “No, I don’t think I could. It’ll be winter by then and not even Beorn’s honeybees could keep all of these flowers through the winter.”

 

“Not planning on staying a few months in the Mountain, I take it.” Bilbo listened to the scrape of Bofur’s knife against the wood in his deft hands and shook his head silently.

 

“Don’t get me wrong- I think it would be quite beautiful in the mountain if you dwarves praise it so highly for the architecture alone. I would love nothing more than to tuck myself inside of one of the libraries and maybe make off with a good book or two,” Bofur laughed and Bilbo shot him a grin, “But I did leave some responsibilities back in Bag End. I didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving. There’s no telling what all I’ll come back to. An empty smial and a snooty Lobelia trying to insist that she inherited it while I was gone is one of my bigger concerns. It’s possible that my gardener was kind enough to have kept an eye on it for me but I doubt he would with all of the little ones he has.”

 

Bofur’s carving hesitated and Bilbo raised a curious eyebrow, “That all?” The question came and Bilbo hummed in confirmation.

 

“A hobbit’s smial is one of the most important things in the shire outside of the family that lives in it. I may only be one in a home made for twenty but the Great Smial of Bag End is still my responsibility to keep until I deem one of the other Bagginses to be respectable enough or needy enough to move into it. Either my decision or if I pass away, that's the only way another hobbit could even think to take the reins from my hands. In the case that I do perish, I have a written will for it to go to Drogo and Primula… Though now that I think about it I’m not sure if anyone will find that too easily.” He had other pressing matters that he should have tried to line up before he left as well, but what good would it do him now to worry about it? Already he could feel anxiety bubbling away at him just from the mere thought of someone hiding his will and refusing to give the home to those more deserving.

 

Bofur picked up his whittling again and Bilbo felt some tension leaving his shoulders as he listened to it. Scrape, snick, tap tap, over and over in various little patterns as Bofur gave shape to whatever it was he was making tonight. It was unfortunate but he had lost the little figurine he was making of Gandalf when the trap doors had been released underneath them. Faintly Bilbo wondered if he was trying to recreate it or if Bofur had simply moved on to some other little craft. “This Lobelia lass, you make her out to sound like a dragon herself.” Bilbo snorted at the idea.

 

“I suppose in a way she is. She’s always been jealous of my little family. She’ll come around to stick her nose in our business and there were even times where my father had to empty out her pockets. She tried to take one of my mother’s combs at one point you know. A simple little thing she used to get her hair out of her eyes. Garishly jealous, she is,” He found his hand brushing over the teeth of his own comb that Fili had given him and understood now why his mother had been upset at the sight of her's being in Lobelia’s hands. Even after having this one for little over two weeks, he felt as though he would lose a precious trinket if it were to ever come up missing.

 

Bofur thumped him hard on the back of the shoulder and Bilbo felt the wind leave him, “Well then I’d say you have plenty of experience with dragons! You just have to take a page out of her book when you go stealing from Smaug!” Stars speckled his vision and suddenly he very much would have liked to lie down. Maybe not so much from talk of dragons, though he would do his best to confirm that alone was enough reason to give him a dizzying spell.

 

He nodded numbly and tapped Bofur’s hand on his shoulder with his own, “I think there’s still a grand difference between a haughty Hobbit and a massive, fire-breathing beast with meat hooks for claws, Bofur. While I’m sure she’s just as vicious, I at least stand a chance of surviving when it comes to standing my ground against Lobelia.” He swallowed a greedy gulp of air as quietly as he could and shifted up onto his feet.

 

Bilbo’s hand rested on the meager banister which rose up into his ear, “I think it’s getting to be too cold out here for me. I’ll go first and get some rest. You should head in soon too, I’m sure you’ll need better lighting for what you’re working on there. Anyway, good night Bofur.” He scurried inside and stole away under one of the many soft blankets that had been left out for them before Bofur could get another word in or notice how Bilbo had reacted to the rough handling outside.

 

~~~

 

When he woke up that morning he found himself mashed between two breathing furnaces. He wished he could say that it was comfortable but he was effectively pinned onto his back with a long lock of blonde hair straying over his face and a heavy boot hooked over his shin from his other captor. His chest had been turned into some paltry excuse of a pillow and he was sure he could feel Kili drooling against his vest.

 

Bilbo made an aborted attempt to move and huffed when Fili’s arms tightened around his midsection with a grunt. What had he done to deserve this? He tried again and both boys groaned in denial, “’s too early,” Fili moaned, hiding his face into Bilbo’s armpit. He would have giggled if he had the energy in him. Fili’s nose had rubbed against his ribcage and prior to any previous knowledge, Bilbo was hilariously ticklish.

 

“Come on now, I need to get up,” Bilbo groused. Kili shook his head against his stomach and the Hobbit just knew more drool had been smeared against the green, buttonless vest. “Let me up you two. I have a Hobbit-sized bladder and I very much need to empty it. Go smother your uncle.”

 

“Uncles’not inside,” Kili grumbled, but released Bilbo and turned over to cross his arms like a pouting faunt. Fili pushed himself off of Bilbo and the Hobbit escaped as fast as he could before they got second ideas. His spot was easily filled by the two princes who curled around one another sweetly before Bilbo spread his borrowed cover over the two of them.

 

He didn’t bother talking to them again as they hunkered back down under the pleasant warmth. One of these days he would have to commission Ori for a sketch of the two of them lying like that. If he ever had anything to pay for it, that is. He found himself contemplating what he could possibly give Ori that the young lad would want in return for a piece of his precious ink-dripped parchment. Maybe he could trade some more information on Hobbits? He nodded his head at that and slipped outside to go relieve himself.

 

Aside from Fili, Kili, Gloin and Bombur who all seemed to be trying to see which of them could sleep in the latest; the rest of the company had taken the early morning hours as a chance to stretch, relax, and in some cases, spar. Dwalin laid into Nori with another haymaker but the tri-pointed dwarf swept away and stepped back in to tackle the older dwarf while he was off balanced. Bilbo smiled at the cheers that broke out as Dwalin rooted himself to the ground and lifted Nori by his belt to toss him away.

 

When he came back through the area the pair had changed to Oin and Bifur, and Bilbo was glad to see that they had come to a mutual agreement that they’d spar hand to hand only. He’d seen how well Oin could handle his staff and Bilbo honestly didn’t think he could stand to be within striking distance of the healer if he ever truly got mad- he might put old Bullroarer Took to shame!

 

Bilbo slipped a little closer to the group and took note of who was there, only to come up short a dwarf. He frowned and looked again before softly tapping Ori on the shoulder and leaning in to politely ask, “Where’s Master Dori? I would have thought he’d like to be here,” Ori shrugged his shoulders and Bilbo leaned back as an excited elbow from Dwalin nearly knocked into him.

 

“He hasn’t come out of the lodge yet.” Bilbo smiled his thanks and let the scribe turn back to the spar at hand. He watched as the two matched against one another grappled and tried to lift the other off the ground, though both seemed to miss the mark completely. Never did he think that Oin’s trousers could be raised so high! A hearty round of laughter peeled through the crowd and Bilbo hid a smile behind his hand.

 

He left them again once Oin managed to somehow flip it around and win against Bifur, and just narrowly avoided being the next victim. Instead, he stepped back inside the building behind them and made for the table with the intentions of finding another apple and some toast for breakfast. Dori sat there muttering to himself and fretting over the braids that crossed neatly on his head- or would have crossed neatly if Dori didn’t look to be struggling with it. Bilbo cleared his throat softly and the dwarf at the table flushed in embarrassment as he was caught in his predicament. “Is there something the matter, Master Dori?”

 

The dwarf shuffled awkwardly and looked around to the four sleeping in the room, “Well, you see, Mister Bilbo,” he stuttered. Bilbo hopped into the open space beside Dori and waited patiently for him to gather his words, “I was hoping to fix this earlier… Nori usually gives me a hand with these plaits when we’re traveling but I found a polished mirror and thought I could use it to do this myself.”

 

Dori’s hands fell away to show Bilbo the uneven French braids that framed either side of Dori’s hairline and Bilbo nodded in understanding. “I see. I might be able to give you a hand if you wouldn’t mind?” He offered. Dori’s face lit up like a yule tree and Bilbo quickly put his hands up in peace before correcting himself, “As a friend of course!”

 

They held their ground like that for a scant second before Dori ducked his head and nodded his ascent, “I’d very much appreciate that, Mister Bilbo. As a friend, would you help me look presentable again?” Bilbo cocked his head to the side and agreed while in thought. So hair wasn’t just something intimate but was as important as the clothes the dwarves wore. He should really ask someone for more… He could ask Dori. No doubt the dwarf would be willing to help Bilbo if he just explained it in terms that the other could understand.

 

The Hobbit stood up and after a few moments of grasping at air, reached out for the clasped beads in Dori’s silvered hair to undo the braids there, “Actually I do have a few questions if you’d be willing to humor me?” He ran his fingers through the braids on the left side of Dori’s head and the dwarf sat patiently, waiting for whatever Bilbo wanted to say.

 

“Would you consider telling me more about your customs? You see, Hobbits live a rather sheltered life and while I feel I’m still walking on eggshells, I would loathe adding insult to injury if I ever overstep my bounds toward the rest of the company. Just the other day Thorin explained to me that keeping the boys’ hair tidy was considered something rather sensitive. It doesn’t seem like anyone minds that I do it since they’re quite young and obviously, the three of us don’t see one another that way. Is there anything else that I might need to be aware of?” He had picked up a much thinner section of hair and ran a small strip of French braiding around the edge of Dori’s forehead before finishing it out with a simple three strand.

 

Dori had begun to shift under his hands and Bilbo waited, expecting a subtle decline to fulfill his request, but it looked like fate was smiling upon him today. “Well, Mister Bilbo, I don’t know how much differs between us. Hair is very important for us dwarrow however. Only in special circumstances will someone outside of an intended or a family member even think to touch it. Pulling a dwarf’s hair in any harsh manner could be considered assault as well. It’s a very rare thing to see one of us without braids of some sort, though we don’t consider it to be rude it does feel a little more….” Bilbo could feel Dori hunting for the word as he worked on the next braid that curved over his large ear, “I suppose you could say that it feels like they were ill prepared for visitors or even that some are in mourning.”

 

Bilbo pursed his lips and hummed, concentrating on trying to thread the wispy strands of silver hair through an even smaller bead than what he had been given previously, “I see. So presentation is even more so important to you dwarves than it is to us Hobbits. You only dress down in the comfort of your homes or in times of grief?”

 

“Yes, that’s it exactly!” Dori seemed rather proud of himself for how quickly Bilbo picked up what he had said. “You’re a very good listener, Mister Bilbo.”

 

Bilbo chuckled and stepped over to Dori’s other side to repeat the process, “I do try. Your habits line up with ours in a way. Though for Hobbits, we don’t exactly have specific sets of clothing, we will wear less detailed vests and coats the day of mourning. If one feels particularly guilty or mournful of their loss we do eat fewer meals as well. Not much of an appetite really. If a Hobbit doesn’t instantly perk up at food then you know there must be something terribly wrong with them.

 

“Hair isn’t as important to us, and while the ladies do try to pin it away from their faces, each style doesn’t have any particular meaning. I’m sure Ori has already shared all of that with you though. Ah, would you mind looking up for me? I’m not quite tall enough to see the top of your head- thank you.”

 

The last braids that he could remember seeing were the two tails at the point of Dori’s widow’s peak. He was gentle as he separated them into two sections, doing his best to make them appear as equal as possible. “And…. How would a Hobbit court someone, Mister Bilbo? Seeing as how you're so comfortable braiding another person's hair it looks like your customs are very much different from our own.” The question was cautious and Bilbo gave great pause at the notion. It would only be fair of him to ask if Bilbo was digging into their culture, right? And grooming seemed to be some step of their courtship.

 

Bilbo tapped his toes against the floor and thought, “With gifts mostly. And dances. Hobbits do enjoy a good dance. We’re simple folk, Mister Dori. A bouquet of flowers, something handmade like a pie or even something that can be used daily like a coat, or a pipe, or a hairpin- these things are usually exchanged to show intention though it's not uncommon for them to be shared in good company and friendship. A lot of the lads and lasses will test the waters at a party. They’ll ask for a dance and if they’re well received, well, they go from there.” Bilbo smiled as he thought about one of the last wonderful parties he had been present for in the shire. He could almost hear the music and smell the scents of home. He tried not to think about the handful of kisses he had stolen behind the party tree!

 

“We’ll go on dates as well; a stroll through the wood, or a picnic in the valley, even a shopping date through the market. The lasses really enjoy that one. My mother used to tell me that my father would often take her to the market to buy a new dress or even just to carry home her groceries when he was courting her. One day she bought one of Farmer Maggot’s biggest pumpkins just to see if he’d try to carry that and as any respectable hobbit would, Bungo Baggins passed the test with flying colors! He had been laid up in bed for the next week for it, but he was pretty proud of himself.

 

“She apologized to him for days with pumpkin flavored foods. Cakes, pies, soups- my father said he was going pumpkin crazy at the time, but I think that it was the turning point in their relationship. The whole of Hobbiton still remembers the love story of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took. You know I do think that they set a trend for young Hobbit couples. Farmer Maggot can barely keep his prized pumpkins come harvest!”

 

They laughed with one another and Bilbo was happy to have a chance to share one of his happier memories of his family. He smoothed down Dori’s braids for him and let the dwarf place them in the correct order atop his head before sitting back down at the table. “And what about you? Have you ever been tasked with carrying home one of those massive pumpkins?”

 

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up and he looked away from the pot of honey he had been eyeing, watching as Dori adjusted his tunics so they looked less wrinkled than they had earlier. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap and lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, “I never got that far, really. I’ve had maybe two attempts at courtship with another hobbit. One had been arranged by her parents and I kindly broke it off when I realized that I would never be in her heart- she had eyes for another. And as for the other attempt… Let’s just say that her personality came to light and I quickly ended it once I found out how she felt. There were some things that we would never be able to see eye to eye on, and those things were more than important to me and less than important to her.”

 

“Forgive me, I hadn’t meant to bring up negative thoughts,” Dori said and Bilbo shook his head at the other. He touched Dori’s forearm and smiled, though the smile didn’t truly reach his eyes.

 

“Think nothing of it. You didn’t know about it and I refuse to have you feeling guilty for such a thing. Why don’t we turn our attention to more pleasant things? There is a bounty of food in front of us, and spars outside to be watched. Why don’t we bring the rest of the company some breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm not sure if I got hobbit customs down pat just yet- I wrote the majority of this offline so forgive me if anything falls out of line! I am taking a little bit of a creative license to it though, so hopefully, it's not too outlandish! I don't think I'll have another chapter up for a while and I know I could be posting these on a much better-maintained schedule, but I'm fond of the idea of posting these once I feel they're ready.
> 
> I think these next few chapters will need a little review of the films and the book to write the setting I'd like to use! Let's hope it doesn't take too much time to work up a new setting for our Burglar to strike!
> 
> I also hope that this fulfills the request for Dori even in some way. I know I didn't give him any particular change in style- again it was a case in helping the poor dwarf keep his modesty. We might revisit Dori further down the line and give him a nice weave of decorative braids for him to flaunt around the company!


	6. Dwalin

Bilbo had been lucky enough to catch their host after he returned. With a little pleasant chat as Beorn busied himself with arranging his firewood, the Hobbit was able to procure a bath- a proper one. And he was there now in their little lodge, standing behind a few screens of aged wood and cloth staring almost tearfully at the copper bucket that had been ladled full of warm, steaming water. A much smaller, flatter wooden bucket had been sat on a crate beside it with a fuzzy looking towel and a whittled off chunk of soap big enough to wash Bilbo a hundred-and-twenty times over.

 

He would have to thank Beorn profusely for his generosity in the near future. Right now his skin itched and while his dip in the river a few days prior had been refreshing, he desperately wanted to sink into this basin and let his body relax. With a nod, he started to prepare just for that.

 

Bilbo reached for the buttons of his coat and was reminded that they were no longer there. The tiny metal things had been spliced off of their threads in Gollum’s caves and he hadn’t really had a chance to mourn their loss before they made it to the bear’s territory. He tipped the corners of his mouth down and touched at the frayed threads that stuck up where his beautiful, acorn faced buttons had once been before he peeled away the clothing. His undershirt had been stiff in so many places that now he questioned if he would have enough time to wash and dry them during his bath.

 

Before he had a chance to contemplate it much longer a sheep had appeared around the corner of a screen to bay at him. Bilbo nearly jumped straight out of his skin and quickly tried to cover himself, “Gracious me!” He said. The sheep didn’t seem all that interested in the naked creature in front of him and only bent its head down to collect the dirtied clothes that Bilbo had unceremoniously dropped to the floor. He was too flabbergasted to try and take them back before he was left alone again, heart beating in his throat wildly.

 

Oh dear. His clothes. He stepped as close to the edge of the screens as he dared and hung his brass curls around the corner in the hopes he could dash out and reclaim them. The sheep was already out the front door, and there was no chance of him streaking naked through Beorn’s flower fields to get them back. One time as a lad in the shire was enough, and being thoroughly reprimanded by his father when he found out had deterred him from it ever since.

 

Bilbo submitted himself to the idea of having to wait for the sheep to bring them back and turned to his bath. He tested the waters with one big foot and sighed in pleasure as the warmth licked over his skin in an inviting way- not too hot but definitely enough to tingle his skin at the start. He stepped his other foot into it and settled down, shoulder deep into the milk-white waters. Someone must have added some herbs to it, not that he would ever complain; it smelt absolutely divine and pulled the tension straight from his muscles.

 

He leaned against the warmed metal and cupped water to splash against his face, sighing as it melted away the gritty feeling around his hairline. As soon as the hobbit had managed to get comfortable though, the door to the lodge was whipped open and a loud curse of Khuzdul rang through the room. Multiple sets of boots followed the leader and Bilbo realized it had been Dwalin who had cussed and muttered up a storm on the far end of the room. “I’m really sorry Mister Dwalin! Honest, I hadn’t meant to!” Ori’s voice was high and distressed as he followed the taller, balding dwarf.

 

Bilbo’s ears perked as he tried to understand the situation before Dwalin let out a suffered sigh and dropped something metal and heavy onto the table, “No, Ori, it wasn’t you who snapped the damned thing. It’s been wearing out over the past few decades and our last bout with the orcs didn’t help matters.” Agreeing mutters filled the room in agreement and Bilbo looked over to the faded floral pattern of one of the screens, wishing he could see what was going on without being caught.

 

“Well, brother it doesn’t look like you’ll be repairing this one. Better find yourself a replacement for it,” Balin’s voice easily met Bilbo’s ears and he listened as the object scraped against the wood and Balin fretted over it. “I’ll look in my pack and see if I’ve one to spare.”

 

“Was that there before?” Bilbo’s eyes widened as feet shuffled closer to his little hidden haven. Instinctively he sunk further into the water as a stocky shadow cast itself over the screens. Ori had moved closer to investigate and Balin thankfully came to his rescue before Bilbo would no doubt drown himself in mortification.

 

“Oh yes, that’s right! Master Beorn mentioned our hobbit would be bathing. Best to leave it alone lad. Seems that hobbits value their privacy and personally I’m not too keen on the idea of being kicked by one of his feet if one of us intrudes on him. Let’s step back out and give him some space.” Bilbo didn’t release his held breath until the door closed, and he was once again left alone to his own thoughts.

 

~~~

 

He had scrubbed himself shiny and new, and then some he was sure. The bath had been much appreciated and well deserved since he hadn’t had one after Rivendell and that was quite some time ago! His bruises were lessening and already most of the little scrapes had faded into thin pink stripes on his skin. The hairs on his feet and shins sprung like little rose gold curls instead of being matted with mud and sweat. He had even painstakingly taken the time to remove the flaking skin on his soles from his little dance through the fires on the cliff side. It left his feet feeling tender in a way and he only hoped they would build their firmness again before they set off over sharp rock and who knew what else that waited on their paths.

 

The ewe returned his clothes, washed, dried and lightly fragranced by the wildflowers outside and Bilbo thanked her as he took them from her back before quickly stepping into his pants and trousers. She left much like she had last time, and Bilbo smiled as he held out his shirt in front of him. It wasn’t quite white anymore, and there were little threadbare spots here and there but never had he been so happy to see it.

 

Once he was fully dressed again, with his collar open only a button or two just to let his skin breathe, he left the screens and took to the table. There on its surface sat Dwalin’s belt. It was a thick leather, shiny and blackened in some places from wear and tear, with a big steel buckle on one end, two sturdy prongs clipping the snapped belt together. Lightly Bilbo rand his fingertips over it and a thought slowly began to bloom in his mind.

 

It didn’t take him long to hunt down Ori who had gone off to sulk under a wide stretching oak and explain his thoughts. After all, Bilbo didn’t have the slightest idea how to fix leather to a buckle and Bilbo figured Ori would be a good partner to have since the young dwarf wanted to apologize to Dwalin for straining the article until it had snapped. Once he found the dwarf he settled down beside him with a rush of air from his lungs and kicked his feet out in front of him.

 

Ori flushed prettily when he noticed the state of Bilbo’s buttons and promptly turned back to his snippet of paper that he drew his charcoal pen over. “Good evening Ori,” Bilbo said politely, voice warm and pleasant as he tucked his hands into his lap.

 

“Hello Mister Bilbo,” Ori said back softly, his voice was colored in a shade of blue that made Bilbo feel even more sorry for him.

 

“I happened to have heard what you three were talking about earlier. I might have a solution if you’re willing to lend me a hand with it?” He got straight to the point instead of going the hobbity roundabout way of doing things as he would have once liked to do.

 

Ori perked almost immediately with a hope shining in his eyes, “Is that true? I feel terrible that I ruined his belt, but I haven’t been able to think of how I could make amends with him. Mister Dwalin sounded upset and I don’t think that anything I could fabricate would be any good for him.” He hung his head further and further as he spoke.

 

Bilbo stretched his small hand out and sat it on Ori’s shoulder, patting a few times. “I think with a little effort from the both of us we could pull this off perfectly, Ori. All I need for you to do is help get the materials and maybe fix them into place for me. I don’t think Master Beorn would mind parting way with a lead or two if it keeps Dwalin from mooning the whole lot of us from here to Erebor.”

 

That sweet flush crept across Ori’s face again as Bilbo spoke and his mittens quickly came up to cover his face for a few minutes. Bilbo smiled and waited for Ori to gather himself, “What do you say? Once it’s finished you can be the one to give it to him as well. I’m sure that will earn your forgiveness quickly and it shouldn’t take very long at all to whip together if I remember the weave correctly.”

 

Ori peered between his fingers with his all too wide, brown eyes before nodding rapidly. His charcoal tipped fingers dropped away from his face, smudging some of it over his nose, “I’d be indebted to you, Mister Bilbo if you could do something like that for me.”

 

Bilbo’s smile easily shifted into a grin and he squeezed Ori’s shoulder, “Well, why don’t you run and find our bear host then? Try to keep Mister Dwalin away from the lodge and I’ll work your apology gift together for you. You may want to ask for some pins or whatever we’ll need to secure it as well. I may need your help there, as I’m only good with needle and thread.”

 

“I can do that!” Ori appeared to have regained his spirit and Bilbo let go as the scribe moved up onto his feet, nearly falling right on his face as he tried to walk with one leg still hiked up off the ground. Bilbo chuckled and watched as he sprinted to where Beorn had last been seen before taking in the scenery around him. This truly was a beautiful place, and the shade from the tree was comforting against the warm sunshine that seeped through the green leaves overhead.

 

Bilbo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting it root him into a sense of peace for a while. If he let it distract him enough he could almost envision Bag End behind him and the sound of the twittering little birds that would nest on the great tree above his burrow. A buzzing interrupted his fantasies and a soft, gentle weight rested down on his hands. Bilbo looked down at the bee that had come to keep him company and snorted at the little vibrations he felt every time it flapped its glassy wings. “Yes, I suppose I should get to the lodge, shouldn’t I? Can’t go making promises and turning my back on them selfishly.”

 

~~~

 

By the time supper had snuck its way around, Bilbo and Ori had managed to craft a sturdy looking belt for Dwalin. The snooping princes, of course, had come to put their noses in it after they hadn’t seen their burglar the whole afternoon. Bilbo had to barter another grooming session to win their silence and assistance, which easily kept Dwalin out of their building and facing off terrorizing dwarves. Fili had even pulled the poor warrior’s trousers down, sliding between his battle stance and yanking at the knee before bolting.

 

When everything was said and done, Bilbo felt proud of his work. It took every scrap of leather that Ori had procured but the hobbit could comfortably say that they had made a belt that could last Dwalin at least the next three decades. His hands were tired from having to hold everything so tightly together, weaving five thick pieces of leather over and under, over and under again and again. The buckle was in place and the tongue on the other end of the weave was firmly pinched in the jaws of a clasp they had repurposed from Dwalin’s old belt. The leather was a mix of light reds and dark browns which Ori said would complement the older dwarf nicely, especially once they had reclaimed the mountain.

 

When voices started to approach Ori quickly folded it into quarters and tucked it into his cardigan, cheeks red and eyes wide with excitement at the idea of fixing what he might have ruined. Bilbo couldn’t hide his grin as he watched the younger dwarf wait anxiously for a chance to present it. It wasn’t until Fili and Kili traipsed in, both ducking and scurrying as a broad fist swept out to clock them both in one fell motion, that they found the tattooed dwarf of interest.

 

He held the hem of his pants warily as the blonde and brunette ducked behind Bilbo’s bench before Ori set upon him. The rest of the group spoke too loudly for Bilbo to catch the exchange of words, but after some time Ori bowed his head and pressed the new belt into Dwalin’s hand. It was sweet, seeing the scribe fuss with the end of his cardigan as Dwalin looked over the craftsmanship before pulling it around his body for a test fit.

 

Thankfully it fit like a glove and Dwalin’s worries of Fili pulling a repeat performance faded into the background. Bilbo pet the boys subconsciously and turned his attention away from the two standing at the door, “Why don’t we eat some dinner, hm?” Bilbo prompted. His mischievous boys perked up and quickly sandwiched him between their warm bodies on the bench, ready to do battle over the table for their bits of bread and globs of honey.

 

Bilbo huffed and pushed into each of their shoulders, “Go wash your hands first! These dwarves!” He hissed, shooing them away to a wash basin in the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had plans on moving them into another setting, honest! I guess sometimes inspiration strikes and when better to make a belt than at Beorns?
> 
> I noticed that the movie version of The Hobbit has Dwalin without braids and so I started thinking about how I could give our warrior some Hobbity braidwork. Do you think this counts for Ori as well? (;


	7. Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited:: I posted this late in the evening when my head was fuzzy from lack of sleep. I've gone through and edited the bits that felt a little more choppy, but I haven't added any important content!

The day was warm, bright and endless. That was how Bilbo would describe any other day had he stayed in the Shire. It seemed that those descriptors could be used here at Beorn’s as well.

 

The hobbit had woke up that morning once again covered in heavy dwarf princes, but he had come to accept that Fili and Kili would always use him as their personal pillow whenever they get to sleep in a little later. “You’re just so small and soft, Bilbo!” Fili had said after Bilbo muttered something about smothering them in their sleep if they kept trying to crush him in the morning. The hobbit retaliated by pulling together a quick plate for breakfast and taking his meal outside to the tree he had found Ori under yesterday. No one followed after the annoyed hobbit and he was very pleased with a chance to just be by himself.

 

If he were fair to himself, he didn’t mind having them around or waking up to them. The boys didn’t kick in their sleep like some of his fauntling cousins do, so he was at least thankful for that much. Kili however needed to have his mouth sewn shut if he kept drooling on his vest! Bilbo huffed and hunkered further down into the soft dirt and strong roots of the tree; closed his eyes and tried to forget the slight dark spot where Kili had stained the lapel of his precious garment. He shouldn’t be so upset- he’d been covered in troll snot for days after the pony incident. A little dwarf drool was nothing compared to that.

 

The wind blew lazily through the clearing and rained down a light shower of brilliant green leaves from the tree. One skittered across his fuzzy foot and he smiled to himself as he watched the bees dart between leaves and hop across flowers. He must have fallen into a light asleep somewhere between one breath and the next because the next thing he noticed was a presence lowering themselves into the empty space to his left with a long sigh. When had they snuck around to him? “Do you plan on staying outside for the entire morning, Burglar?” The gruff voice made his ears twitch and his toes curl before he could blink open his bleary eyes and look at the travel-worn king under the mountain.

 

He looked tired, but his face had been regaining color after the long stay there in their safe haven. His eyes were dimmed from the rough journey, and he sat in a way that spoke of how uneasy he was being here, out in the open. His hair was a mess of twigs, leaves, dirt - clearly, the dwarf didn’t understand what good a bath could do him! And not just a quick dip in the river either!

 

Bilbo sat up from his nest of roots and stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers clasped together. The pull of muscles and the ache of bruises drew a quiet groan from his lips before he dropped his limbs back down beside him, “Do you plan on avoiding the small luxuries of a good bath before we leave to continue your quest?” He asked instead.

 

Thorin frowned deeper and carefully leaned back against the tree, no doubt coddling his wounds still. Bilbo sighed through his nose and looked the dwarf king over, “You should really allow Master Oin a chance to look at you. The last thing I think any of the company would want is for their leader to die of infection on the road to Erebor. It would be a pitiable way for a king to pass.” Bilbo crossed his ankles and sat his hands in his lap. He aborted an attempt to raise his hand and dust some of the debris from Thorin’s kingly head and tried to look like he wasn't wanting to pluck debris from his hair. How had Thorin even managed to get so dirty and entangled in foliage anyway?

 

Hair was important to dwarves- grooming often meant something more than the innocent touch a hobbit would have. While he knew his intentions didn’t come with requests for other things, Thorin himself had been the one to tell him he was treading on thinned glass if he offered his comb to anyone in the company. He… Wouldn’t mind if Thorin had interpreted it that way if Bilbo had the courage to offer such a simple gesture. He was marching to steal from a dragon and yet he didn't have the courage to feel his heartbreak if Thorin turned him down. It made him feel like a tween again.

 

The brooding male that had appeared on his doorstep only a few months ago easily caught his eye- and ignited his ire as soon as his mouth had opened. A grocer. A creature for him to look down his impressive nose at. Someone unworthy of the blue gaze of a king seeking his stolen crown. He was handsome in a way that elf nor hobbit could be and Bilbo was painfully aware of that. He was also painfully aware of the high horse Thorin rode and how uncomfortably small that made him feel.

 

“Perhaps.” Thorin broke through his thoughts and Bilbo turned his attention back to the very being who had flooded his mind, “However, dwarrows are more sturdy than the soft people of the shire.” Bilbo wondered if his look alone could set the royal on fire. Here he thought he'd get to have a simple, pleasant conversation with the leader after all of the hardships he had put him through. This must just be how Thorin talked to anyone outside of his kin. Bilbo should accept that even though Thorin had accepted his worth to the company, he would never accept the hobbit as anything more than just a gentle creature trailing after them for a chance at adventure.

 

“Well, excuse me for being concerned over your _health_ ,” He said, tone tight and hands shifting into small, tight fists. His lips pursed into a thin white line as he tried to gather himself. Thorin enraged him easier than Lobelia when she came over and poked at his mother and her habits. He tried to rein in his temper, truly he did, “Were you not the one who said that appearance meant everything to dwarves? Have you not yet looked at yourself Thorin? Nearly crushed by the fangs of a warg, singed by fire, ruined by the responsibility of leading your company on a quest you believe could kill them instantly! You are nearly a corpse walking from one campsite to the next, only coming alive when rage fuels you. ‘Dwarrows are more sturdy’ my left foot! Thick headed more like it! Go ahead and collapse from your wounds, why I even bothered to defend you I don't know!”

 

He moved to stand, snatching his empty plate and the cup Beorn had said was no bigger than a thimble. Words not familiar to those who knew Westeron slipped from his mouth, muttered and dark as he spoke to himself. A solid warmth clasping around his forearm stopped him. Bilbo turned to tell the dwarf to keep his hands to himself, only to see Thorin actually looking at him with his mouth poised to speak, “I hadn’t meant to cause you distress, Halfling.”

 

Halfling again. Bilbo disliked that word the most, he found. Far too many men from Bree called them such. Halfling, as if they were only half a man. Sure, that might be true in stature- they looked nothing more than human children running underfoot in their settlements. Hobbits, however, were not half of anything. Hobbits were creatures of the shire, farmers, healers, politicians, fighters when needed. They were not half or lesser. “I wish you would stop calling us that,” He breathed, not moving from his position, but giving Thorin a chance - a very small one at that - to right himself.

 

His hand stayed against his arm, steady as stone until Bilbo finally sat back down fully and placed his dishes beside him. It lingered and tightened slightly as Thorin accepted Bilbo's detest against the word, “Bilbo, then.” Bilbo didn’t think that his heart could flutter at the sound of his own name even while he was still miffed. Chalk that up to the list of un-thinkable things that had happened ever since Gandalf shoved his own pipe smoke back into his mouth on his front steps.

 

Thorin cleared his throat and dropped his hand from Bilbo's arm, reminding him how cool the air felt around them in the dappled shade of the oak tree. They remained silent for a long while. A bee occasionally buzzing past, a bird song carrying down from the overhead branches. “Did you come seeking me out for a specific reason?” Bilbo finally prompted. Thick, dark eyebrows knitted themselves together and Bilbo found his patience tried again, though he stayed seated this time.

 

After some long internal monologue he figured the leader had to run through, he finally managed to get an answer. “I may have spoken out of turn earlier. I was trying to make a point, Bilbo.” There was his name again, hesitant and rough on Thorin’s tongue. How easily it kept his attention on the king’s ever so masculine features. So few in the company called him Bilbo. It was always Mister Baggins, Burglar, Master Hobbit, Halfling, never just Bilbo. At least not outside of the princes and Bofur who had warmed up to him immediately.

 

“Fili tells me that you’re injured as well.”

 

 _‘Oh blast that blonde,’_ Bilbo thought, turning his attention to the foliage in the distance. “They're nothing serious. I’ve been tending them, though I can admit that I haven’t seen as much from you,” Bilbo replied, his tone less scathing and quieter. He rubbed at a dirt stain that graced the knee of his pants and sternly avoided looking up at the stare pinned to him. He found himself rising to defend his race, maybe in an attempt to get Thorin's attention to shift off of him in some way, “You may think hobbits to be small and gentle folk in every means, Master Thorin. You would be astounded at how much a hobbit can take. Our bones are strong, our feet are tough, our heads filled with the knowledge of our shires. We rarely if ever see the world outside of our little hills and small rivers. Truly there is little that would cause us harm short of being stabbed or beheaded and acts like that only like to make themselves known if we travel too far past Bree. Magic may even be one of those weaknesses - you see I wouldn’t know these things. Magical beings rarely visit our shire, Gandalf will show off some impressive fireworks every few decades and that is about as far as it goes for us. The kingdoms around the shire and the rangers that patrol keep most other dangers away rather easily.”

 

“You’ve signed a contract that requires you to visit our healer if you become injured. If I remember correctly, a bruise or an irritated shoulder both count as injuries. You're no longer in your safe shire, hobbit. There are many things out there that will do worse than stab or behead you. There is magic, and none of it as innocent as fireworks. You will be hunted, you will be harmed.” Thorin must have memorized the contract forwards and backward by this point if he could remember such a small thing that Balin had amended on the edge of his contract. Bilbo frowned and scratched through his hair with one dusty hand, seeing that he had only managed to give Thorin more reason to force him into Oin's custody. Here he thought Thorin would be too dull to catch what he could use against him, but perhaps, the exiled king had developed some form of political mind after being thrust onto his throne.

 

“And how would Fili have come across this information?” He asked, finally looking over only to see Thorin eyeing the longer, more unruly hair hanging about his ears and irritating the back of his neck. What? Did he have something in his hair more interesting than the veritable forest Thorin himself dawned? He pat down the curls atop his head and tried to tame them before placing his hand back overtop the other in his lap. His anger had faded to the back of his mind again.

 

“Your collar was undone yesterday. He and Kili mentioned they had seen some discoloration but thought it to be the lighting. You also mentioned it in your sleep when they went to rest for the night,” He answered easily. Bilbo could faintly remember telling Fili not to move around so much, but he didn’t remember saying anything about his shoulder that had been battered about by various falls, sharp-pointed rocks, and well-meaning shoves. He felt his hand creeping up to touch it and ducked his head as he was caught. He could at least say he was better at hiding his pains than Thorin.

 

“Why don’t we make a deal then?” He was making a lot of those recently, but Thorin inclined his head like he was willing to hear it, “I will go see Oin, but only if you agree to see him first and let him treat any of the wounds that still linger from your fights. Personally, I can keep traveling in my state. You, on the other hand, look ready to rest for the next three weeks after being thrown about by that warg. And you have to take a bath! I’m sure Oin would appreciate being able to see your wounds clearly, and seeing your hair twisted up into a birds nest – while it is an amusing sight – really chaffs me the wrong way.” Bilbo quickly tacked on the need for a bath at the end after seeing yet another leaf flutter down to join its kin in Thorin’s new crown of debris. His fingers twitched against his thigh as he clamped down on the desire to whisk it and the others away.

 

The silver streaked dwarf sat quietly for some time, contemplating Bilbo’s offer with a frown and the obvious desire to refuse. However, Bilbo knew that the health of the company weighed on him constantly and the hobbit could see him coming around to the idea. That didn't mean that Thorin came to the decision quickly, either. He was ready to gather his things again by the time Thorin relented, “We’ll do it your way, Burglar.”

 

“It’s Bilbo,” He liked it when Thorin used his name. Maybe if the others heard him say it enough they would drop the formalities as well. He swept himself up onto his feet and turned to offer his good arm for the dwarf to crane himself onto his own feet. Thorin took it, but Bilbo was certain he had braced most of his own weight and wondered if his arm had been taken just to humor him. He huffed in exasperation and waved his hand toward the lodge where they knew Oin would be, “I’ll ask Beorn to draw a bath for you.”

 

~~~

 

It took a lot of convincing on Bilbo's part, but Beorn eventually conceded to allowing Thorin a bath. Beorn didn’t like dwarves. Bilbo had found out as much after they saw their host the second day. Beorn however, did like  _his_ bunny. If it made bunny happy then Beorn would allow it to a certain degree, Bilbo was sure. If it meant losing a little favor with the bear to have their leader clean, Bilbo could live with that. After all, the skin-changer was quite handsy and Bilbo tried his best to be a gentlehobbit about it all. He hoped this would urge the bear to keep from petting him like some real rabbit that frolicked and lunged about the meadows.

 

Of course, as soon as Oin heard that Bilbo required his ‘professional advice’ he was swept away to stand in front of the hearth where he could get a good look at him. Thorin looked rather proud at the outcome before he sauntered off to the dividers Bilbo had been behind the day before. Which left him in the lodge with Bofur, Fili, and Kili whispering conspiratorially in the corner and each of them scraping at pieces of wood, and Bilbo topless in front of Oin’s prying eyes. Bilbo suddenly felt like he was the one who had been conned and silently vowed to return the favor however he could in the near future. “I do believe you’ve examined that one four times now, Master Oin,” He said curtly.

 

Thick fingers prodded over an old series of scars that tickled around his ribs and back. They were thinned and held that shiny pink quality that old scars liked to have and stretched over his freckled skin. They hiccupped over ribs and the edge of a shoulder blade, and Bilbo distinctly remembered how the cold made the muscles underneath ache and itch with phantom pains. He resisted lashing out as Oin inadvertently tickled him again with another calloused brush of his hand, “Where did you get this at, laddie?”

 

Bilbo hummed and twisted to look over his shoulder, though he could never quite see it at that angle, “The shire is not without predators, Master Oin. It’s well healed and has been for a few years. Now if you could please focus on whatever new injuries might be there now I’d very much appreciate it.” He didn’t particularly like thinking about the scars or what had caused them. In fact, he was tickled pink that he couldn’t stare at them day and night simply because they were on his back and side! If they had been more visible he doubted he would have been able to heal mentally as quickly as he had. Even if memories of howls- or even real howls still caused his heart to leap into his mouth.

 

The older dwarf muttered about stubborn hobbits under his breath and continued his examination, being thorough and going so far as to ask how long he’s had certain scrapes or feathering bruises. Bilbo answered each question in kind. Everything he knew of had come from the goblin caves, the stone giants, and the fight on the cliff. No, it didn't hurt if Oin pushed on his ribs. Yes, his shoulder smarted a good deal if he tried to raise his hand over his head. Knowing all of this still managed to make Oin take quite a while to prescribe anything. It took even longer for him to give a pass for the hobbit to continue on their quest, though Bilbo didn’t know what it would mean if he had been failed. Would the company have left him there? Would they have stayed even if it delayed their quest even longer?

 

The healer sat him down on a piece of upright firewood and Bilbo flinched at the first, warningless cold touch of salve that was smeared over his shoulder blade, “Calm down laddie,” He groused, smudging another scrape further down his back and dotting a few more while he was at it, “They look harmless enough, but we’ll keep ya medicated ‘til they heal up. I don’t know how easy you lot are to come by an infection, best to be on the safe side. Hold your arm up. Come on, higher than that.”

 

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the snickering corner while doing as Oin said, “That’s cold!” He knew it did little good to complain but his words roused a deep laugh from one of the other members of the room. Thorin appeared around the end of a screen with the majority of his layers pulled off and fisted into one hand. The tips of Bilbo's ears flushed pink and he glued his eyes to a very interesting grain pattern on the floor between his large feet.

 

“So I see our Burglar has been thoroughly poked and prodded,” His voice was hued with humor and teasing. If Bilbo weren’t trying his best to sit still as Oin rubbed a glob of salve over his shoulder he would have… He didn’t know what he would have done. Sat there and look embarrassed? He was already doing that much!

 

Thorin had been shirtless and in nothing but his boots and trousers- which thankfully were _tied shut_. At least some dwarves had that decency when coming back from a bath. He couldn't say as much for Nori or Gloin, or even Dwalin who was just as content streaking around the place until he was dry. A healthy dose of what Bilbo could have only called fur stretched out over his chest and down the center line of his ribcage, petering out to a thin, elegant trail and widening again just above his beltline. Dark hair traipsed over his arms and Bilbo felt that this pattern followed Thorin’s back. No, he did _not_ find that attractive in the slightest! He did not linger on the mental image of the firm and well-built dwarf not three meters away from him.

 

A full on shudder ran through him when Oin dabbed more paste to his collarbone and Bilbo firmly bit down on the inside of his cheek to muffle the involuntary noise that squeaked in his throat. Oin’s hands hesitated, but once he realized Bilbo wasn’t in pain he continued on. He had no idea how the healer had even heard it but Bilbo decided that it was wise not to mention it. Who knew what kind of teasing he would get if he had to reveal that he was actually very sensitive there.

 

“Alright then, you’re done. I’d suggest you let that dry before you dress.

 

"Let’s get your stubborn arse over here,” Oin turned to Thorin who had dropped his clothes on the bench. Bilbo slunk off of his piece of firewood and made a face as his hair dipped into the dark green paste striping over his body. He really needed a haircut. Maybe he could find a pair of scissors before they left? One of the ewes had been kind enough to provide him with a basket of sewing supplies earlier after he had offhandedly mentioned the state of his clothes. He could use the scissors from there and the piece of metal Dori had found the other day if he could just sneak off from the company. Would they be offended if he cut his hair? He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he turned to Thorin who stood akimbo near the meal table.

 

“Looks like it’s your turn, O Mighty Dwarf,” Bilbo called, flourishing his hand to the abandoned hunk of wood that had unwittingly become Oin's examination table. Thorin sighed at him and moved to occupy the makeshift stool while Bilbo tried not to blush too brightly at being in just as many clothes as the king. His blush faded as he spied the red irritated skin around a puncture wound low on Thorin's ribcage. In the light of the fire, Bilbo could pick out quite a few more wounds that matched it, weaving between bones and leaving flowers of purples and blues under the thin dusting of dark hair on his skin. He frowned at them all and felt himself leaning closer to one shoulder, tutting about how it looked particularly scathing.

 

Bilbo lingered nearby, using the heat from the fire as an excuse to dry the paste faster. Really he was interested in watching the healer perform his duties, and maybe he wanted to show he could be of use if Oin needed any freshwater or whatever else Bilbo would be able to provide. Oin only growled at him once to move out of his path when Bilbo hovered a little too close and the hobbit slumped back over to the warm stones of the fireplace to give him proper space again.

 

Kili easily distracted him however by sneaking around the table to steal Bilbo’s coat. The hilt of his blade glinted in the low lighting and Bilbo's eyes immediately honed in on it, curious what the youngest prince was intending to do. Honestly, how did he expect to be silent with his arrows knocking about in his quiver? He used this as a chance to practice his ability to be unseen and unheard, and padded after him to where the youngest prince conspired with a toymaker and a blonde, “Now what are you three up to exactly?” Kili jumped and Fili clutched whatever he had been holding to his chest but Bofur just offered a lazy smile, holding up a roughly hewn out pipe.

 

It called forth the memory of Bilbo’s old pipe, long lost to the caves. The edges were still sharp from the rough shaping Bofur had given it, and the stem was much shorter. Bilbo was reminded of how long it had been since he'd had a proper smoke. Not just a wisp of dwarvish weed as the others camped about a fire or a warm hearth to tell tales. “Just carving up a few things. Thought I might convince Kili to slip this into your coat for me. Looks like he put the cart before the pony and got us all caught.” Bilbo sighed and looked at the youngest dwarf who was eyeing the mottling of blues and yellows that poked out from under Oin’s medicine.

 

“How do you manage to do that?” Kili asked, and Bilbo looked down at himself, eyebrows furrowed at the question. His hands fluttered at his sides as he tried to understand what the archer had asked.

 

“How do I do what?” He looked back at Kili who had released his coat. The garment now lay across Fili’s knee and Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to snatch it from the other when Kili looked like that.

 

“You’re covered near head to toe in wounds but you’ve been smiling the whole time, treating everyone same as usual. We thought you’d act like death was coming as soon as someone nicked your hand.”

 

Bilbo rolled his eyes and sat his hands on his hips. He probably looked very silly right now, standing like this in only his trousers, “I didn’t come screaming for you all to come save me when we dealt with the trolls did I? And who was it that sent me to them to free the ponies? Have I not already proven myself better than that before the caves?” His voice was firm but not angry. It still made Kili’s head ducked with each question and Bilbo let out a breath as he looked at the other two who seemed reprimanded as well, “I’m on the mend, just like I told Oin- who agrees with me by the way. If anything it looks like I picked a fight with the briar bushes between Hobbiton and Underhill. There’s nothing fatal, Kili. You can stop looking at me as though I’m going to break as soon as you touch me.”

 

He sat his hand on top of Kili’s head and pat the braid there that he had worked into his hair last night. Kili relaxed and nodded, but kept quiet like he still felt as though he were being punished for his foolishness. Before Bilbo could mention anything else Oin called him back over to where he was, hovering over Thorin’s shoulder with a firm frown in place, “Come here, laddie. I need your help with something.”

 

Coat forgotten, Bilbo trod back over to see Oin flap a hand at Thorin who was giving the healer a rather pointed look. Obviously, he had missed something because the two started glaring at each other as soon as Oin noticed the look their leader was lending him. “Oh shove it! It’s the only way I’ll be able to see everything, you won’t have to keep the damned thing!” Before Bilbo could get a word in edgewise Oin turned back to him and roughly dropped a strip of leather into his hands. “Convince that fool to let you tie his hair up so I don’t have to pick through it to see what I’m doing! I'm going out for some fresh air before I knock his head off his shoulders!”

 

Clearly, Thorin had refused the healer’s help under some assumption of it being degrading because the older dwarf stomped out of the lodge growling too lowly for Bilbo to understand the words. He even left his trumpet on the mantle, which was a surprise to Bilbo because Oin didn't like forcing people to shout for him to be able to hear them. Bilbo looked from the closed door to the strip of leather in his hand, and then to Thorin who was glowering darkly at the door himself. “I seem to be missing part of this conversation…”

 

The king raised his hand to brush over his face and Bilbo once again found himself waiting for Thorin to answer him, to shed some light on this topic. “He’s asking you to do something that we haven’t agreed upon.” That wasn't the answer he was looking for and the both of them knew it.

 

“His request makes sense.”  Bilbo pointed out after he noticed the dwarf wasn't going to delve any further into his explanation. Thorin’s hair was long enough to sweep to the middle of his back and thick enough to conceal just about everything underneath it too. Trying to see through those long strands and the thick hair on his torso would no doubt be difficult, especially for an older healer. It wouldn’t do any good to push his hair around if ointment were used and Bilbo doubted Oin wanted to waste the paste on Thorin's hair instead of using it where it was needed. “I doubt he’ll let you go without some kind of topical either. You’ve just bathed, it makes sense on a professional level to keep your hair out of the way for hygiene reasons alone.”

 

Thorin turned that glower on him but it fell away as Bilbo spoke. The healer hadn’t said as much and it dawned on Bilbo that Thorin hadn’t given him the chance to. He twirled the leather strip between his fingers, “Would it be so uncomfortable for me to do this for you if it means Oin can treat your wounds?” Eventually, Bilbo would learn to stop asking questions.

 

Instead of answering verbally, Thorin consented by slowly turning his back to him and staying that way. Bilbo took it as the obvious sign that he agreed and turned around to find his comb. Fili must have been listening in, for he pranced over with it immediately, a grin on his face as Bilbo took it and started gathering Thorin’s hair behind his shoulders. He picked out the two braids that curled around his ears and sat those in front of Thorin’s tensed shoulders, “Tell me if it hurts you in any way.” Thorin nodded minutely and Bilbo looked at the mess before him.

 

He carded his fingers through and sectioned out thin pieces, delicately undoing knots that had piled up in his hair. He kept each piece he was working on in his hand, so he wouldn't run the comb over Thorin's wounded back. When Thorin had muttered something about elves Bilbo tugged lightly in reprimand which easily shut him up. With each segment he detangled, Thorin relaxed more and more, moving to lean on his elbows against his knees. It made it a little more difficult to keep everything parted into 'tangled' and 'combed' but Bilbo didn't fret about it too much.

 

By the time his thick hair was tangle free, Oin had returned, looking mostly calm. At the sight of the hobbit having won over Thorin's logic, Oin sent him an approving look but Bilbo was too focused on running the comb from root to tip. The tines ran along the curve of Thorin’s head and Bilbo realized he could see – just barely – that Thorin had closed his eyes. He counted that among his few accomplishments as he indulged himself a little longer, just passing the silver points through Thorin's copious locks even though there weren't any snares to be felt. He sat the comb down on the king’s knee since the table was too far and the mantle too high and contemplated what he needed to do next. Oin needed something that would keep Thorin’s hair out of the way, and Bilbo's fingers slowly worked together a French braid with tiny strands that slowly grew in thickness. Left, right, pick up pieces, left, right… Thorin’s hair worked into a beautiful, simple pattern that Bilbo was easily mastering thanks to Fili and Kili's constant pleading every night. The braid was shot through with silver and Bilbo was thoroughly fascinated by it all. He was even more fascinated by the sighs that were gifted to him when he curled his fingers around the edges of Thorin's ears to pick up new strands.

 

Bilbo held the end of the finished braid between his fingers and silently wished he had dropped a strand or that he could redo it just to spend a little more time there. Somehow it felt like they had entered a new world, and Bilbo honestly didn't know that grooming someone could lead to such a sense of contentment. Sure he had felt content tending to the princes but Thorin had so much more hair to be tamed and even then it felt different to be handling the king instead. He carefully tied off the end and hesitated there. Was he really done? Was this enough? He turned to look for Oin's approval but the healer had his back to him, mashing together a new paste for their leader. “I think this will do for now. Once he says it’s safe you’re more than welcome to undo it,” Bilbo dropped the braid against Thorin’s shoulder and the Dwarf ran his hand over it in an almost trance-like state.

 

He dipped his head in thanks and Bilbo took his comb back, certain that if he had left it Thorin would realize it’s origin and throw his little trinket into the fireplace out of spite for the elves. He tucked it into one of his trouser pockets and stepped back as Oin returned. “You did good boy,” He said. Bilbo could only nod back, hands still tingling after running them over Thorin’s tresses, mind still lingering in that somehow secret world he had found.

 

“Right, well, if you need me, I’ll just be over there. I think the salve has dried now so if you’ll excuse me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Thorin appears! It isn't the sweet and romantic type of chapter we all hoped for, but I didn't want to just throw them into the throes of love. I do hope that their characters came across well enough though. I also think this is the last chapter to appear in Beorn's home.
> 
> Maybe Bifur next? I have plans. (:


	8. Bifur

“What time d’ya think it is?” Bilbo heard one of the dwarves ask. He wasn’t exactly sure who it was, the forest played with voices and his ears betrayed him more often than not. They had been in Mirkwood for some time now- not able to see the end of one path or the start of another, just knowing that they needed to keep to the one under their feet if they hoped to survive.

 

“I think it’s about time for afternoon tea,” Bilbo answered, bundling up in his jacket a little more. His fingers kept rubbing over the edges of the new, wooden buttons the company had been kind enough to carve for him. A cautiously carved feather, an elaborate lapin, an unsteady sword, the vignette of a pony, and an energetic arrowhead all carefully cut into small round buttons now lined the edge of his coat. He couldn’t stop himself from the small smile that would slide over his lips as he felt each design under his fingertips.

 

His heart had been thoroughly warmed at the gifts presented to him on the last day they spent in Beorn’s. Each dwarf had stopped by to give him something in some way. The boys presented their buttons and insisted on picking where he should sew them- Kili, of course, wanted the spot above his brother’s and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bofur had presented the pipe when he noticed Bilbo’s longing stare as Balin and Gloin smoked by the mantle- and Bilbo had found a surprising little bunny button settled into the bowl of it.

 

Dori was far too kind and gave shy Ori’s button to him over a cup of tea he had pulled together from the mint leaves and other plants he found outside. Dwalin had palmed the pony button to him just before they left, and Balin gave him some knowing smile (he wasn’t sure what Balin had clued in on) before sitting a share of his pipeweed in Bilbo’s hands as well. The Hobbit was gifted a spool of thread and needle from Beorn- as well as an unnecessary amount of honey rolls. Leave it to say it was a silly sight to see, Bilbo balancing on his pony, sewing in hand and a roll braced between his teeth, looking the happiest he had looked since they left the shire.

 

Bombur shared some of the smoked fish he managed to smuggle from who knows were the night before, and Bifur played his version of a shire song on his clarinet. It made his heart sing and twist at the memory of home, even if Bifur just couldn’t get the twists of it just right.

 

Oin presented a squat little terracotta pot with salve for his scrapes under the pretense of saying “There won’t be much time for me to do it for ya, so here. You’ll want to put it on every night, keep it close ‘n don’t lose it! I can’t keep makin’ it for ya!” Gloin humored him by sharing little tales about Gimli and let Bilbo chime in with stories about his little cousins and the messes they’d get themselves into. Bombur had even joined them to tell about his sweet darlings he had left in the mountains to help them on this quest.

 

Nori was still cautious of him, but the appreciative pat on the shoulder had been enough. Bilbo was helping Ori with his book, describing what had happened with the trolls and the giants. The little scribe’s eyes had lit up with each new detail that Bilbo could provide and it only spurred Bilbo to help embellish the stories a little. A good book needs to highlight each of the members of the company, he figured.

 

Thorin didn’t particularly give him anything- not physically at least. The king kept his hair tied away for the rest of the day after Oin had treated him, and Bilbo could occasionally see him sweeping the simple plait forward over his shoulder. Eventually, the strip of leather couldn’t take all of the attention and slipped from Thorin’s hair at dinner, leaving the pattern to unravel over the layers of tunic and armor the oldest son of Durin wore. Bilbo liked to think that the slightly more pronounced waves suited their leader and had a hard time keeping his eyes to himself.

 

“Afternoon tea?” Ori, yes that had to have been Ori.

 

Bilbo looked up from the smudges of dirt that were gathering over his thick soles and the knuckles of his toes to hummed faintly in positive tones. “Yes, about four in the afternoon I’d say. Imagine what the other hobbits would think if they knew I was skipping tea!” He chuckled and looked forward again, making sure to keep a mental count of all the dwarves ahead of him. The winding paths of Mirkwood made him surprisingly anxious, and Gandalf's warning to stay on the path had only encouraged that seedling of worry to grow.

 

“Are there any other tea times?” Ori asked, voice small and body huddling close to Nori when he thought he heard something beyond the tree line.

 

Bilbo shook his head, “No, we only have one tea time. I do miss that though, and proper hobbit meals too! Tea does have plenty of little snacks and light foods to nibble on, but it just isn't as filling as Supper or any of the other meals,” He felt like he could almost smell the food the more he talked about it, “It was difficult adjusting to questing mealtimes, I’ll admit. No time for second breakfast, elevenses, tea or dinner on the roads while we run from wargs and orcs. Lunch has been hard to come by lately as well,” He sighed longingly and felt himself wishing for another one of the honey rolls Beorn had made. They were gone by now, quickly scarfed down at the start of Mirkwood so they wouldn’t mold and go off.

 

“ _Second_ breakfast? Dinner?” Another voice piped in, astounded at the idea that hobbits had so many meals in a day, “I thought we were having dinner when we stop for the nights!” Gloin. That rough tone was definitely Gloin.

 

“Oh, no Master Gloin that would be Supper!” Bilbo was quick to correct him and a small flurry of chatter could be heard around him, though Bilbo suspiciously couldn’t make out the words, “Hobbits eat quite a lot back home. Even the men folk look shocked when we come into the taverns near their towns and villages to order meals every few hours. Keeps us energized for all the work we do in the fields, helps faunts grow nice and strong.” Bilbo ran his thumb around Kili’s arrow on his coat and stepped over a decaying log in their path. Well, he straddled it and dropped his foot onto the other side before finding his balance again.

 

“No wonder his pantries looked like they could feed a platoon of soldiers!” Bilbo couldn’t figure out who that one was meant to be. He looked behind him but most of the dwarves were either nodding in agreement or climbing across the same tree he had just passed.

 

~~~

 

He woke up to the sound of labored breathing and the sensation of a warm, stocky body wrapped around him in a vice. Fili? He thought, stretching a hand down to the arm bound around his belly. No, that didn’t feel like Fili’s coat, in fact, there was a different tone to the breath in between his shoulders. Something cool and metallic touched the nape of his neck and realization dawned on him, “Bifur?” He asked quietly. The arm tightened but Bifur didn’t move away.

 

Bilbo lifted his head and tried to look around at the other dwarves, but outside of dark shadows, he couldn’t tell who was where. He pat Bifur’s arm again and squeezed it, “What’s wrong?” He tried again. A grumbled word was spoken into his jacket and Bilbo remembered he couldn’t understand Bifur in the first place. What was he meant to do? He kept petting Bifur’s arm for a while and let his mind clear from the hazy sleep he had been enduring. Distant whispers of a voiceless nature had plagued his dreams and left a dissatisfying feeling in his gut.

 

Well, he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep for a while, he might as well sit with Bifur until the watch changes. Maybe he'll be able to flag down someone to wake Bombur or Bofur to help. With a little encouragement, he managed to sit up, staying close to Bifur who immediately moved close to him once Bilbo was settled with his thin cover wrapped around his shoulders. Small hands idly smoothed down Bifur’s wild hairs, doing what Belladonna had done or him whenever he was young and scared in the middle of the night. “I don’t much care for this forest,” He said, voice pitched low but not whispering. The rest of the company could sleep through much louder things, he knew that much.

 

Bifur growled in agreement and Bilbo felt his hand tighten on his thigh. The dwarf's temple sat against his other leg and his arm was slung around Bilbo’s knees to keep him where he was. Why he had sought out the hobbit, he didn’t know, but they were like this now and he saw no point in arguing about it. If it kept the wild-haired male in a sane place Bilbo didn't want to tempt a complete loss of control just for his own comforts.

 

“It isn’t healthy and green anymore, Radagast was right about that much. I wonder if at one point it used to be as wondrous as the old forest in the shire,” Bilbo untangled a bur from coarse hair and flicked it to the side of the road. He found himself searching for anything else he could unburden from Bifur’s unruly mane, “My parents used to walk through the trees of the little woods around Hobbiton when I was young. I’d be with them, running circles around their feet, climbing the tall trees as far as they would let me- which wasn’t very far at all. Never past their arms unless we stopped and they could keep an eye on me.”

 

He chuckled and thought back on the warm sunlight and fresh air from those memories. He cloud hear his parents laughing and Bungo telling Bilbo to get back in sight when the faunt had meandered around the bend in the path, “My father would go red in the face in embarrassment when my mother would join me in the branches. She liked to adventure and imagine just as much as I did. Most Tooks are like that,” Another tangle, and Bilbo could feel the fierce grip on his leg loosening, “I think that might be why Gandalf wanted me to come with you all. That and my mother.”

 

Bifur grunted after a long pause and Bilbo cleared his throat realizing the dwarf wanted to hear more, even if it was just rambling. “Oh. Well, Tooks are different from most hobbit families. They’re the ones who lead, not the ones who follow. They’re captains and adventurers, and in some cases they’re Thains.” He found another bur and started working it out of place, “You probably don’t know what a Thain is… A Thain is… Well, I suppose you would call them lords or kings or something of that nature outside of the shire. Politicians, dealers in trade, one of the most respected hobbits in the largest Great Smial to boot. Though most won’t fully respect a Took if they’re not the Thain. Too wild, too… inquisitive about the world.

 

“They even use Took as a means of cursing the young ones when they step out of line,” He laughed, understanding in a way why they used ‘Son of a Took’ even if he didn’t when he was young. Bifur tilted his head and Bilbo felt the curious stare, hearing him ask in growling tones a question he felt he understood. “It isn’t anything to worry about I assure you. They just don’t understand the way we feel. That pull to leave, even if we just go to Bree or the base of the Blue Mountains. We wander too much, travel too far, bring back strange stories that make their children want to run off into the wide green yonder. I’ll have to tell you about some of the adventurings I used to get up to.”

 

Bifur settled back against his leg and Bilbo continued untangling strands of hair, humming quietly to himself as he worked. Bifur hadn’t been offended so Bilbo took it as a sign that he was allowed to continue. “Well, look at that you do have beads in here,” He smiled and touched the embellished metal with a light hand, “Do you want me to fix these for you?” Bifur shrugged and the brass haired hobbit undid the clasps so he could untangle the mess of braids that Bifur had kept hidden there.

 

His hands found bundles of leaves, small twigs and another couple of burs before he was finished. The dwarf that had been clinging to him was now laying contently along the length of his legs, releasing sounds that reminded Bilbo of the old tom cat he used to have. He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he listened to it, “And to think people would call dwarves rough and callous creatures that fight over treasures and glory. If they could see half of the things I’ve had to experience with this group, I expect they would need to pull their jaws from the ground. No, you dwarves aren't warriors full of suspicions and war.”

 

He plaited three strands together into a neat little group. Bilbo didn’t dare to try anything intricate, not when he could barely see his own hand in front of his face. Bifur argued half-hearted with him and Bilbo’s smile stretched a little further, “No, it’s true! You’re warriors, but you’re _more_ than that. Architects, scribes, healers, politicians, scholars, designers, crafters, merchants, technicians, I bet there are even a few farmers among you if you’d just take to green things.” Bifur grumbled petulantly when Bilbo mentioned green things.

 

“They’re not that bad! If you ever visit Bag End again, I’ll show you just how nice they can be. You lot did eat my pickled vegetables and the stew I was making for the next day. You don’t think I’d leave vegetables out of a stew do you?” He clasped a bead back into place and smoothed it down against the rest of Bifur’s fluffed hair.

 

“I’ll teach you how to pickle them as well. You can take some jars back with you for the journey home. I’ll dry out some beans and make jams. I’ll even find Bombur some more cheeses. Maybe something a little dryer with herbs in it, I’m sure he’d like that. Dori would like to try something more than the chamomile I managed to find in the market. I’ll have to make jam cookies for the boys, we’ll have to introduce them to the sweet peaches that grow in South Farthing,” Bilbo carried on talking mostly to himself until he realized he had lulled Bifur back into a peaceful sleep.

 

He stretched and felt around for Bifur’s bedroll before pulling the blanket over him again. Mirkwood was cold and wet anyway, it wouldn’t do them any good to have sick dwarves especially when the forest was already so disorienting. Blue eyes looked around again cautiously, wondering just how much longer they would be stuck in this tunnel of sickly trees. He hoped tomorrow would lead them to the other side with bright light pouring through a clear field and fresh air ready to greet them like old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bifur's chapter is a little shorter, but it's a good deal harder to write a one-sided conversation in the dark!


	9. Nori

The air was nearly ripped right out of his lungs as soon as he was submerged in the icy, dark waters of the river beneath Mirkwood. He almost let it steal his breath and dilute his strength into liquidy weakness. Almost. He kicked off of the rocky bottom and resurfaced, gasping for breaths of cool, rushing air. The sound nearly overlapped Thorin’s cheery greeting and compliment, but Bilbo felt himself smile minutely as he paddled toward Nori who latched his hands around his biceps and heaved him higher against his own barrel.

 

Bilbo wanted nothing more than to climb into one of the spares but they were already moving so he hooked his elbows inside and tensed his body to hold onto the wine barrel as best he could. He hated rivers- did he ever mention that? The way they could suck you under and steal your breath, the fact that they taunted you with soft moving waters in one bend and then threatened you in the next. He hated that as a hobbit it was so much easier for him to get swallowed up and to never reappear. Curse his thick bones and small stature.

 

Nori tried his best to keep a hand on him, tried to turn the barrel in futile attempts to keep Bilbo from being crushed against the sharp rocks. He tried not to but Bilbo cried out more times than he cared when he was nearly mashed into Hobbit Jam. One particularly good collision dislodged him from the dwarf’s barrel and all he could hear over the din of crashing water was, “BILBO!”

 

He dipped under the water and sputtered only to be rinsed a few more times until he could tangle his frozen fingers around a loose rope. No one was in this barrel and it heaved with its new weight. Bilbo scrambled to brace his knees around it and cling to the rim, feeling it shift to raise him up out of the water. He didn’t know if he should be grateful to have readily available air to breathe, or if he should be terrified. Orc screeches ripped through the air followed by the bellows of an elvish horn. None of this boded well and the hobbit squeezed his eyes shut as the gate in their path was pulled close, barring them from freedom. What were they to do now?

 

Orc after orc was dumped into the river around him, shot, stabbed, decapitated- you name it there was an orc behind him under the surface that had it done to them. He lifted his head and looked around before he spied Kili climbing out and stepping over the rims of occupied barrels. Bombur squawked when Kili jumped from his shoulder onto the platform to either side of them, and Bilbo’s stomach dropped. Without thinking he scrambled from his mount, raising more alarm from the dwarves as he followed Kili onto land.

 

He felt sick moving from the churning waters onto solid ground. The world spun and if he had anything in his stomach he was positive he would have tossed it then and there. Bilbo had to keep his attention on the battle taking place around him instead, or a weak stomach wouldn't be the only thing he had to worry about. Orc and elf alike fought around them, leaving the brunette dwarf to weave and the hobbit to follow as best as he could. Screams of their names could be heard but Bilbo honed in on the youngest prince and his destination. The lever.

 

A sword nearly slammed into him and Bilbo curled into himself to avoid it, grimacing at the splatter of blood that painted over his face. Just narrowly avoiding another blow, Bilbo pulled Sting from his belt and swung blindly at whoever was targeting him. A high pitched screech met his ears as he sliced over an orc thigh and dashed forward when an opening was made. A loud splash followed after him and he could only hope that the dwarfs tucked under the bridge were able to finish the job. From the sound of it, he didn't have much to worry about.

 

Kili made it to the lever just before him and Bilbo looked at the thick wooden branch of a release mechanism that loomed far over his head. What had he intended to do by coming with Kili? The prince barked for him to open the gate as he parried another errant sword with an ax handle he had scarfed up from one of his previous opponents. Bilbo stretched his hand up and hopped, barely brushing over the lever. He pursed his lips and tried again, putting more strength into his tired legs. He caught the bar and pulled, feeling it slowly give.

 

Kili joined him just as a shower of arrows pinged around them on the stone. The lever gave way with the extra weight and Bilbo’s feet touched the ground once more. “Get back in the water!” He urged with a high strung voice as he turned to push Kili to the edge of the stones. The prince stumbled at first before he dropped swiftly into the barrel that Fili had hemmed up. Bilbo followed, scrambling and gripping tightly to the bands that wrapped around his arrow-riddled cask as they rushed down current again.

 

Watching Bombur single-handedly take out what seemed like twenty orcs just by bounding over them in his own keg would be an awe-inspiring and humorous tale to tell the children back home. Even more so when he bore two weapons from inside his splintering and broken wooden armor, whipping around like a snappily released spin top. Bilbo would have laughed at the sight himself if he weren’t trying to stay afloat and _alive_.

 

When they found a slow moving section of the river Thorin called for them to get to shore so they could run on foot and Bilbo was never more relieved to be told to run again. He struggled to pull his barrel toward the others, kicking his feet in the waters in vain. His eyes kept moving between the dwarves laying on the rocks and the dark teal waters beneath him. They swirled ominously in waiting and as much as Bilbo hated it, he hated being separated from the group even more. He took a steadying breath and slid into the dark liquid, shuddering as he surfaced and swimming as well as he could to try and find a spot where he could stand.

 

His energy was too low though, and Bilbo sunk again, brass curls drifting below foaming blues that sucked what little strength had remained right out of him all over again. A strong hand snagged the back of his collar and heaved him up, back into the air and the soft sunlight. He gasped and let his savior manhandle him to shore, breathing a weak and pitiful thank you as he felt rocks under his stumbling feet. A rather miserable looking Bifur crouched in front of him and slapped his shoulders, a questioning look on his face.

 

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, patting Bifur’s soggy forearm in return. The other dwarf continued to hover and Bilbo sighed softly, “We don’t agree with water, but I’ve had a few swimming lessons Bifur. Honestly, I’m fine- just have to catch my breath.” Bifur growled out something and Bilbo desperately wished he understood what he was saying. Before he could say anything else Bifur left him there with a stern gesture for him to sit and not move. And he thought Dori could be a mother hen.

 

~~~

 

Their run-in with Bard had been…. Less than pleasant, but the man agreed to smuggle them into Lake Town and the dwarves were happy enough with that. A town on a _lake_. As if Bilbo hadn’t had enough of water for one lifetime, here he was, in a town supported by stakes that reached deep into the bottom of a half-frozen _lake_. He was miserable. They had been cloaked in fish, nearly tipped overboard, and now he was being pulled up through Bard’s toilet! If he didn’t feel humiliated at that, well he certainly felt like a hobbit-sized icicle.

 

Bifur kept hovering over him too, pushing covers onto him and making him sit in front of the modest fire Bard’s daughter had made for the drowned company of dwarf and hobbit that now filled their home. Bilbo didn’t complain too much, but he certainly would appreciate some dry clean clothes to knock off the chill. “It isn’t much but you’ll have to make do with this,” Bilbo looked up and saw Nori holding out a fist full of blue cloth with a cream edging. A coat. One too small for the dwarves but still too large or Bilbo himself. He was thankful anyway and took the item with both hands and a smile.

 

“Thank you. I think it will be plenty after the day we’ve had.” Nori looked like he had received the brunt of it. His usually carefully groomed triangles were wet blobs of drooping hair now, just barely revealing they had looked like something else prior. The hobbit looked around at the rest of the company and saw that plenty of the others looked just as rankled. Balin’s usually tamed tufts of hair were sticking up every which way in a fuzzy cloud of discontent. One of Ori’s braids framing his face had come undone and the poor scribe was suffering through Dori’s ministrations as he tried to put it back together for him. Fili looked like someone had shoved him in front of a drooling warg, and Kili somehow managed to look somehow presentable compared to the rest of the company.

 

“We look like a bunch of irritated tom cats, don’t we?” Bilbo asked, getting a chuff of laughter from the mound of drooping braids that had settled himself on the hearth. The hobbit unraveled his cocoon of covers and shrugged off his red coat, frowning in dismay as he noticed the state of it. There was no rescuing this garment with needle and thread this time. He thumbed over the tear in the lower back and softly pat over various other frayed threads and ripped seams.

 

He stopped when he came across the buttons on the front and stroked the faces of each treasured gift, “Master Nori, would you happen to have a blade on hand? I’d like to keep these.” Bilbo looked up and Nori pat down the front of his tunics before fishing out a short, thin blade from his waist. Bilbo needed to learn how these dwarves managed to hold onto something when they’re being thrashed around in every direction. Bilbo had lost quite a few things on this quest already and almost none of the things he had on his person had been there when he started. No, it seemed the only things that had stuck around were the clothes on his back and what few small things his dwarves had given him. “Thank you.”

 

He carefully cut through the threads that anchored the buttons to his coat and then gathered them all into his palm. The tip of Ori’s feather had chipped off somewhere in the river and Bilbo handled it gently. When he finished he gave the knife back and pulled the comb out of his jacket to save it as well. Thankfully it hadn’t seen much damage itself. A dent here and there, maybe. “Think I might be able to borrow that from you?”

 

Nori pointed to the comb Bilbo had between his palms and Bilbo’s eyes widened, “Oh! Of course,” He transferred it into one hand and clasped his fingers around his buttons in the other before stretching his prized comb out for Nori to use. The dwarf flipped it over in between his fingers and frowned as he noticed the elvish shape to it, but he didn’t comment or even hand it back to Bilbo. No, instead the dwarf shuffled his braids around and started running the tines through his red hair. He didn’t do it very gently, and Bilbo wondered if it was because Nori didn’t mind the pain or if he just wanted to get it done and over with.

 

Bilbo turned his attention back to his previous task and peeled his green vest from his shirt. Bifur groused at him, a thick hand sitting on his shoulder when Bilbo tugged the last of his tops off. Dwalin looked up and over, bushy brows raising and then pulling together into one large furry caterpillar on his brow. What? Bilbo turned his head to look but Bifur rumbled and squeezed, which easily translated again to ‘ _sit still!’_

 

After some shuffling he found himself under the prying eyes of Oin once more, with Bifur chatting up a storm to the healer, “Would one of you mind telling me what’s going on?” He finally asked, clutching the blue coat to his chest as more and more of the company kept turning to look at him. Was there something wrong with his face? He opened his mouth to ask as much before he clenched his teeth and hissed, “Ouch!” He flinched away from Oin who equally jerked back from him, “What in the name of the green lady are you doing?!”

 

“You’ve got a nasty looking gash, Lad.” Bilbo frowned and huffed, pulling his blue shield higher up into his collarbones at the chill in the air. Oin turned to look for one of the humans of the house and Bilbo brought his attention to the once white shirt sitting on the floor. He hadn’t noticed the large splotch of red-brown that had painted the left side of the back and he felt his stomach drop. When had that happened?

 

“Here, I think you’ll be wanting this,” Nori’s voice held a different tone than it usually did and Bilbo gazed up questioningly, face looking a little more pallid than it had before. Nori stretched out his hand and instead of the comb that Bilbo had been expecting, the little pot of medicine Oin had made for him in Beorn’s house was sitting between his fingers. “I figure you dropped it in the barrel when we first started down the river. Was planning on returning it to ya once you had pockets again but looks like hobbits need medicine pretty frequently.”

 

Bilbo took it and tried not to feel too insulted by Nori’s words. He knew the dwarf hadn’t meant it in a terrible way. “I owe you for this.” He made sure that the medicine inside was still useable and was blessed enough for it to be only slightly runnier than usual. Bifur called Oin back over and Bilbo put the lid back on, “Is there something I could do to repay you?”

 

Nori hummed in mock thought and slapped Bilbo’s comb on his palm a few times, “Well, I’ve heard talk that you’ve got some kind of magic in you. We have a wager to see if that’s true, care to prove either side right?” Bilbo raised his eyebrows and heard a few chuckles from the others nearby. He looked to see smirking princes, a grinning toymaker, and a tea merchant who seemed to be looking anywhere but him. Thorin was turned away to a window so Bilbo couldn’t tell what he thought about this whole thing.

 

“I suppose. I doubt that any kind of magic I have would be significant, however. Hobbits aren’t like wizards or elves.”

 

“No, no you’re not.” Nori ran a calculating eye over him and Bilbo felt even more exposed as the thief appraised him. What was with that look?

 

The once tri-pointed dwarf pressed his comb back into the hobbit’s hands and turned before promptly sitting down in front of him, and realization dawned once again on the unsuspecting hobbit. He’d have to do something about those exaggerating dwarves after this. Kili sniggered and elbowed Fili who looked equally as amused as they put Bilbo into another mess of braids and coarse hair. If it weren’t for the fact that he was now sandwiched between Oin’s hands and Nori’s back he would have gone right over and given them a piece of his mind.

 

What could he do now? He’s already agreed, and if he decided against it he'd have to put up with silly chatter about hobbits again. Bilbo sighed and shuffled his things around, filling the inside of the blue coat to make sure he had a pocket- without holes, thank you- to tuck his precious buttons in before laying into this tangled mess of a project in front of him. Bifur said something that made Nori snort loudly, “Yea, I doubt that.” The salt and pepper dwarf growled lowly at Nori’s disagreement and stomped off to where Bofur and Bombur were crowded into a corner.

 

Bilbo pulled some of Nori’s hair onto his thigh and started working out the small tangles with the hope that Oin would finish soon so he could at least pull on his coat. It would feel rather uncomfortable not having a shirt to go with it but his clothes had all been fairly ripped up from the quest. He didn’t really have a choice anymore. “I’ve no idea how you get like this. Looks like someone threw you into a gale and left you there for a week.”

 

He frowned as he gently unknotted a nasty looking tangle and let out a hiss as Oin cleaned the gash he had poked at earlier. “It’s all the teasing,” The healer supplied. Bilbo raised his eyebrows in question and remembered faintly that some of the lasses in the shire would do that for their parties, tangle up their already unruly hair to make impressive bumps and groom their hair over it to make it seem silky and smooth. He never thought that dwarves would be interested in it, but this wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last bit of information he’d be privy to.

 

Nori was a patient creature. He turned his head this way and that and even gave Bilbo a chance to slip on something warm once he was freed from Oin's almost constant muttering and prodding. Dwalin had thrown an oversized tan tunic at him without much explanation as to why or where it had come from, but Bilbo pulled it on anyway. It made him feel like a child drowning in their parent's clothing and he wished he had the time to hem the sleeves at the very least. He had said so and Ori said he’d loan some thread if they had time tonight.

 

Bard came back to the house with an array of weapons and Bilbo was still working on Nori’s head, sectioning out pieces and twisting them into neat plaits similar to the ones he had first given Fili after Rivendell. The dwarf wanted to go claim something for himself but seemed to war with the idea of leaving. That is until the company started complaining about the makeshift blades hammers and harpoon spears Bard had scraped together. No, they wanted _real_ weapons made of iron and steel- not old fishing hooks and wooden mallets! Bilbo tried not to pay them any mind. He still had Sting, and that was as much as he ever needed. The thief settled back down in front of the burglar and they kept to their own little world by the fireplace.

 

When their host left again, Bilbo was nearly finished. He had clipped all of Nori’s beads back in and teased his hair back into his usual shapes, really all he had to do was smooth it down and pin the hair in the last bead rolling between Nori's otherwise idle hands. He left the bottom half free as it usually was and twisted the other strands through the bead with a sense of accomplishment, “I can’t say I’ve ever braided someone’s eyebrows into their hair but I will admit it’s an interesting look.” He smoothed Nori’s hair one last time and then dropped his hands to his knees, sitting back to admire his work.

 

It wasn’t perfect. No, Nori’s points were usually a little more well, pointy. Bilbo had done what he could, and from the looks of it Nori didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t as sharp as usual. In fact his latest project looked rather stunned and somehow drowsy. “Damn,” He muttered as he pulled himself up out of the floor. Bilbo gave him a questioning stare to which Nori waved off, “You win this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have purposefully omitted the part where our sweet little Kili gets shot. I do love some hurt/comfort, but I just couldn't bring myself to put Kili through that pain again. You all enjoyed Bifur quite a lot so I gave him a little more activity in this part as well, I hope you liked it!
> 
> Now, I wonder who's next? Should we get Thorin again while everyone is off partying the night before they sail across the lake? Dori has already tended to Ori's cute little braids so it may be a chapter or two before we get to do anything with him. Maybe a tipsy Bofur takes advantage of Bilbo's kindness and asks for some grooming in a more than friendly manner? We'll have to see what happens. (:


	10. A Silver Crown

The air was thick with laughter, smoke, spices and the smell of cooked meats. Bits of cheese went over his head, followed by a stray sausage and raucous laughter. It made his lips curl up into a bright grin as he watched the company enjoying themselves, gorging on food and ale while singing silly songs and challenging each other to drinking competitions. They deserved it all. Every last one of them had earned a feast in their name, even if their host was greedy and only wished to dip his fingers into the deep pockets of Erebor.

 

Bilbo ducked as a pint of ale swung over his head, chuckling as Bifur struck a wide stance and flexed with a roar. He just beat Gloin in his own competition and the rest of the conscious company cheered loudly in celebration with him.  Even their stoic leader had loosened the hold on his serious demeanor and was enjoying a few pints of sweet mead with Balin at one of the tables.

 

The hobbit had taken to happily observing the group, kicking his feet lazily under the table as he sat in a chair far too tall for him. A plate of creamy potatoes and roasted fish sat in front of him with various little baskets and dishes of soups, bread, gravy and blanched greens. His own pint of ale sat to the side of his meal, nearly empty. Most of his dishes were in that state actually; nearly empty. He had eaten his fill and then some after their arduous journey through Mirkwood and a brief stay in the king’s dungeons.

 

Beorn had been kind and overwhelmingly welcoming of him in his lands as well but Bilbo felt almost famished at the mere mention of roasted beef and fish bigger than his small hand. He was a creature born from the rolling green hills of the shire, but that did not mean he wanted only green things! He knew the sweet taste of a baked ham and how flakey fish could be once you’ve fried it up just right in a bit of butter and herbs. Precious commodities that they did not have on the quest, that he had found himself longing for more and more lately.

 

He laughed as he watched Kili skulk around not so silently to nab one of Dwalin’s knives from his belt after being dared to try it by Nori. The balding warrior caught the prince by the scruff of his tunic and snapped the fingers on his other hand before holding it out flat. Kili pouted and returned the weapon with a defeated sag of the shoulders before Dwalin released him. Nori nearly fell out of his chair as he cackled beside Fili who had a handsome rosy hue painting his cheeks from his sixth pint of ale.

 

“He’ll be recovering from that tomorrow,” Bilbo said to himself, reaching for his own pint to sip at what remained. A warm hand blocked his path however, and the hobbit jumped as he realized he wasn’t alone anymore. He looked at the scarred hand he had grazed and followed the familiar fingers up to the baggy sleeves of a travel-tattered tunic until his eyes connected with deep blues. Thorin. Bilbo’s ears tinged pink and he swallowed. “Hello.”

 

Thorin rumbled back a greeting and they stayed like that for a short breath of time, staring at one another and waiting, “I need to speak with you,” Thorin said.

 

Bilbo tried not to twitch under his gaze and instead nodded his agreement with the idea. The dwarf stepped aside just enough to allow Bilbo room to jump down, and then lead him upstairs until they made it to the veranda. The air was cold and still here, at least still compared to the rushing winds over the river. It didn’t make him anxious like the still air of Mirkwood, rather it felt more like it was holding questions.

 

The hobbit twiddled his fingers behind his back and looked out onto the sleeping rooves of Lake Town. Only a half dozen houses appeared to have their fires still roaring; the smoke painted the cool tone landscape in hues of grey and white. The fires glimmered through the thick windows and twinkled on the water’s surface. Lake Town could be quite beautiful during the night hours.

 

“I would like to request that you not share your… skills among the rest of the company.” Bilbo twisted his head and looked at the profile of Thorin’s face. A faint frown tugged at his own lips at the expression that seemed to darken Thorin’s features and pull forward wrinkles on his forehead. They cut into the sides of his nose and the edges of his lips, disappearing into the dense fur of his beard. One of these days Bilbo figured he'd reach up and smoothe out the creases, but not today.

 

“My skills?” He asked. He had a feeling he knew what was being mentioned but he required clarity as he did with any other matter.

 

Thorin heaved a sigh that rushed a thin plume of fog from his lips, “Your grooming habits, Master Baggins. It’s become distracting and I’ll have no more distractions past tonight for our quest. What you choose to do after your contract has been fulfilled is up to you. Whether you entertain Bofur or Nori or even should you take fancy to someone else is your business but as it is now,” He cast a sidelong look at the hobbit and Bilbo was sure his eyes had narrowed in a glare in return, “I ask that you put a stop to your flirtations.”

 

Bilbo scoffed- rather loudly at that. He looked forward and frowned as his eyes slid further east toward the looming shadow of Erebor, taking a grand bite out of the twinkling stars that crowned around it. “For your information, I have no interest in Nori. At one time I might have considered Bofur,” He dipped his head and sighed long as he tapped his toes against the planks. “I might have considered him. However, there is another who has demanded more and more of my attention. Over the course of our travel, he has been at the forefront and required much more of me than I knew I could give. He challenged my courage and bravery many times, he tugged on the thin strings of my patience and galloped across my worries as though they were nothing but the smallest grains of sand under his boot.”

 

He hooked his elbows on the banister in front of him and wondered if the ale had loosened his hold on his tongue, or if it was the looming mountain he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from. That mountain could be his final resting place in just a few days’ time. He set his chin on his crossed arms and pursed his lips, eyes narrowing in thought, “I refuse to stop grooming the company. Appearances mean everything to you dwarves- you’ve said so yourself. Tending to the boys takes away some of their anxiety and if we’re being honest with one another, I think it clears mine as well. Who knows when our last day will be? How dishonored would you be if you died and you looked like you had done battle with a rose bush and lost?”

 

Thorin’s hands tightened on the wood beside him and Bilbo listened as it creaked in resistance to his strong grip. “They have their own kin to take care of such matters,” Bilbo could hear that Thorin was still trying to justify his own desires.

 

“And I do not have any kin of my own to bond with,” He said softly. He turned his head so that his cheek pressed against his arms and looked at Thorin again. The king had a stormy expression that eased with his words and Bilbo smiled crookedly, “Your nephews showed me a great kindness by allowing me to help with keeping them looking nice and proper. Bofur traded support for his braid. Dori would have been mortified if he hadn’t been able to do his own braids. Bifur was too terrified to go back to sleep. Nori- I think he was curious more than anything.”

 

Thorin grew more and more confused as even more of the company was listed, and Bilbo could see the tension in his shoulders melt as he mulled the news over. “You know, Thorin… Touch is important to hobbits. I think Fili and Kili realized that by the time we ran into the trolls. Nothing terrible happens if we go without touch but… It does lend us a good mood. We grow up with plenty of affection and touch from our parents and the rest of our family members as well. It’s a sign of acceptance and I suppose I was pretty miserably aware of how unaccepted I had been then if even those two could see it.

 

“What I’m trying to say is that grooming is another aspect of touch. We don’t put the intimate aspect behind it that you do, but even still only our families will groom one another. Friends may help for certain occasions. In my case, I saw most of the others struggling and wanted to help. After our chat at the carrock, I made sure to put into effect the idea that I needed to confirm that our desires were on the same page as well.” All of his grooming had been out of necessity, or in the case of the mischevious princes, it was a means of rewarding them for behaving. At least, Bilbo told himself that. Even if the boys hadn't behaved he had a feeling he would be talked into combing and braiding hair.

 

He cleared his throat and straightened up to swing his hands at his sides. “Well, I should head back inside now that that’s been cleared up.” He nodded his head to himself and turned on one fuzzy foot to head back for the door, only to be stopped by a hand over his shoulder. Bilbo swallowed and turned slowly back to face Thorin.

 

Thorin, who was washed in the warm glow of the lantern that hung inside of their temporary home. The king was kissed in hues of orange and yellow that turned his silver crown of hair into a beautiful pale gold and deepened the blackness of his hair. His eyes shone in streaks of honey and Bilbo found himself holding his breath as he took him in. The elves had taken Thorin’s beads from him. Bilbo could see that now. Where two neatly plaited braids once framed Thorin’s jaw and draped over his chest, now only lay wavy hair shot through with silver beams of starlight.

 

“If I had different intentions than those of the company when I ask for your… Assistance… Would you still agree?” He asked with his voice low and somehow hesitant. Bilbo thought that he liked that sound. Like Thorin was offering up some secret part of himself for the hobbit to witness. He had gone from grouchy, stoic leader to weary and cautious dwarf over the course of Bilbo's small talk.

 

Bilbo stared, face soft and eyes calculating. The hand on his shoulder flexed before slowly sliding away to drop back to Thorin’s side. It really must have been the ale affecting him, he thought. He crowded closer to the king and stretched a small hand up to collect the hair that hung discontentedly over Thorin’s warm shoulder. The king tensed and Bilbo looked up to let pale blue meet rich sapphire before bringing those strands forward and pressing his lips to them, letting them linger there. It felt like satin, cool and slick and barely textured. “Yes.”

 

Hands skimmed over his sides and rested cautiously on his upper arms. The hobbit relaxed into the touch and closed his eyes, pulling Thorin’s hair from his face only to rub a thumb over it soothingly. It made his fingers tingle like it had the first time he touched Thorin’s hair in Beorn’s house. The same sensation spread to his forehead when Thorin leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the gently tanned skin there, just at the base of his hairline. It felt so nice, really. “Would you allow me to return the favor to you?” The words ghosted over his face and Bilbo felt himself nod.

 

“I’d like that very much.”

 

They stayed like that for some time- he didn’t know how long, just that it had to have been more than a few minutes. His fingers were cold and so were his toes, but he stayed there, clutching a ribbon of hair and letting himself soak up the feeling of peace and contentment that came with being ensconced in Thorin’s hands. Then he was being guided backward and twisted around so that he could step inside without tripping over the lip of the doorway. His cheeks hurt from smiling and he tried to ease the pinch there by rubbing his face with his now free hand.

 

He was lead into another room off of the main hall that had a small bed that would easily fit at least four of them, a short wardrobe, a mismatching desk, and a long couch propped up near a lifeless fireplace. He made his way past the velvet couch and his hands found the tinderbox on the mantlepiece. Before he could strike the first spark, Thorin’s hand clasped around his own and languidly removed it from his grip, “Go sit, make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of the fire.”

 

“Afraid that I would burn myself?” He teased but relented. His feet brought him back to the couch where he had to hook his knee up first to get into a seat. A chuckle highlighted the air and Bilbo shot a look over his shoulder, only to see Thorin turned back to the hearth with his back to him, crouched down to encourage a small ember into a warm, brilliant fire. He settled into the arm of the couch that pressed into his side and tried not to fuss too much when it rubbed one of his bruises in a wrong way.

 

“Thinking that you might need the time to heave yourself into your chosen perch.” Bilbo threw one of the embroidered pillows near him at Thorin and the dwarf caught it deftly, his lips curling up into a smirk.

 

The hobbit’s ears twitched and turned even more pink, “Yes, very funny Thorin. You have a sense of humor.” He settled back down and tucked his hand into the folds of his coat, pointing the other to the floor in front of him, “Now come here. I hope you have something to hold these in place.”

 

Thorin strode to Bilbo’s seat before he dropped down to one knee in front of him. Bilbo admired his strong nose and thick lashes for a moment, feeling hands resting on his knees. He felt like he should say something, tell Thorin to turn and sit properly, or ask what he was doing. He brushed his fingers over Thorin’s cheekbone instead, biting the inside of his cheek when the dwarf turned to nose into his palm, “I have managed to make some temporary ones,” He said, and Bilbo smiled at the warmth that pressed into his hand as Thorin wrapped his fingers around it.

 

His dwarf curled his fingers over and pressed his mouth to the points of Bilbo’s knuckles and it sent a bolt of lightning through him, “Well hand them here, we’ll see if they work in your hair.” Thorin touched each knuckle with a light press of his chapped lips- and really was that necessary? How was he meant to focus?

 

When Thorin finished he turned Bilbo’s hand back over and pressed three beads into his hand, a calloused thumb tracing one of the seams that curved across the center of his palm. It curled his toes in the most pleasant way and he tapped his heel against Thorin’s thigh to distract him, “Now enough of that, I won’t be able to work if you capture my hands.” Blue eyes glimmered at him with an unknown expression which didn’t halt the second zing of lightning that spiraled through his spine.

 

Eventually, he was able to get Thorin to let go and sit on the pillow he had thrown at him earlier. His hands felt pleasantly warm and numbed from the attention that Thorin had paid to them. His fingers carded through Thorin’s hair first, boldly finding the top of the king’s head and running his fingertips over his scalp. It made the shoulders pressed between his knees shudder and Bilbo did it again. And again. And again. “Care to tell me what all of that was about?” He asked, pulling his hand through Thorin’s hair again and gathering it all on one thigh.

 

The royal hummed dazedly and Bilbo hid his smile behind him while sectioning out a piece to gently untangle with his comb. “For us, it is a touch that one will only give to their intended,” Thorin’s voice carried handsomely through the room and Bilbo traced his comb around the edge of Thorin’s ear, watching in amusement as he tipped his head for the hobbit to do it again.

 

“And why is it only meant for your intended?” He accepted his request and repeated the half curve around his ear, dragging the comb slower. A pleased breath answered him and Bilbo followed Thorin’s hairline with his comb, delicately pulling knots from the silver rivers that sprung forth from Thorin’s temples.

 

“It is a promise… To care for you when your hands can no longer perform as they once did. It is a promise to cherish. A promise to provide for you and protect you,” Bilbo chuckled and combed through the section one more time before setting it aside. Thorin looked almost disappointed, and Bilbo made sure to tuck that bit of information away.

 

“It is a very pleasant promise. Are you sure you will be able to do all of that for me? So far I am the one who has done most of the protecting,” His tone was light and Thorin’s rumbling chuckle told him that he knew it was just a tease. Even if Bilbo had definitely been the main key of saving the company of dwarves over and over again.

 

“So long as we belong to one another I will put my life in your hands and hope that you would do the same. Would you give me that honor?” Bilbo’s hands paused minutely before he picked up his motions again, working at the center of Thorin’s head now, piecing out vertical sections out of the space he had carved from the rest. Thorin obediently tucked his chin into his chest as Bilbo worked through the hairs at the nape of his neck.

 

“I would not think of it as an honor to protect me, but I will give it to you if it is what you desire,” He answered. Thorin’s hand wrapped around his shin and Bilbo wondered what kind of expression was on his face.

 

He kept working up, over the curve of Thorin’s head and soaked in the sight of silver strands turning gold briefly as they caught the shifting light from the fireplace. His dwarf had gone silent and Bilbo didn’t press him for more talk, and instead turned his full attention to the pool of hair in his lap. It waved invitingly and he idly carded his fingers through the combed section a few times before returning back to the last few areas.

 

Bilbo was rewarded again with pleased sighs and hums as he treated the hair behind this ear as equally as he had the other. Thorin’s cheek pressed against his knee and Bilbo smoothed his fingertips from the line of beard hair in front of Thorin’s ear around behind it with gentle touches and a fond look in his eyes. He would panic in the morning, he figured. There wouldn’t be any ale left in his system by then and the proper Baggins of Bag End would reappear, flushing away the warm and affectionate Took blood pumping through his veins.

 

“I’ll have to keep this in mind for when I need to ask you for a favor.” Thorin shot him a half-hearted glare and closed his eyes again, clearly enjoying what his hobbit was doing. Bilbo took advantage of the position and pieced out a new portion of hair, braiding it away from Thorin’s face with his faithful four strand technique. It looked even more wonderful with silver peeking through it, he realized.

 

He reached the end and chose one of Thorin’s new, temporary beads to hold it together, not yet ready to fully call it finished, but needing his hands to finish his work on this side. His fingers found another piece and he mimicked the king’s previous braid that curved forward over his ear to dangle against his cheek and down onto his shoulder. Another bead snapped into place and Bilbo examined the simplicity of it. Nothing fancy like the silver beads Thorin had previously. They were simple steel beads that Bilbo could only assume came from scrap bits of metal the dwarf had been able to collect and shape while they had been in Lake Town.

 

He tapped Thorin’s head and waited for the dwarf to lean the other way, making quick and careful work of repeating his pattern to this side as well. He held the loose end of his four strand braid and gathered the other once Thorin sat up straight again. The bead he had used to hold the twin braid together was slipped out of place and Bilbo carefully curved each side behind Thorin’s head to meet in the center at the back, “I’ve always thought this would look good on you. I think I’d like to put more with it once you’ve been able to return home.” Bilbo clipped the two braids together and undid the remaining ends that dangled from the bead before settling it against the waves of Thorin’s hair. It fanned out over his thighs and Bilbo gathered it all into his hands, “Though that French braid did look marvelous on you as well.”

 

“I almost wish you would do that again,” Thorin replied. The hobbit grinned and chuckled, smoothing his collection of black and silver between his hands.

 

“Yes, well, maybe I will in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone for the 5,000 views this has managed to receive so far. I never thought that I'd get past 2,000 so this really just makes my heart ache with joy. .////.
> 
> Also, I wanted to mention that this scene is going to be posted in two parts! I hope you enjoyed part one. (:


	11. Bilbo

He squirmed as he sat there, being patient as Thorin combed through his unruly hair, “I’m afraid you won’t get it to lay flat. That is the nature of hobbit hair,” A warm chuckle poured over him and Bilbo smiled at his knees. Their goal wasn’t to have his curls straighten out. No, Thorin was trying to give him the treatment that the hobbit had just done for the king. The thing is it didn’t exactly have the same effect.

 

Bilbo was tender headed, quickly telling Thorin when he tugged too hard on his locks. Unfortunately, that happened frequently at the start. Curls had the tendency to tangle and twist around each other, teasingly flicking the tail ends outwards from a woven patch of hair or corkscrewing straight out from one’s head. They never had a sense of neatness to them and hobbits learned that at a very young age. Dwarves, on the other hand, seemed to be a good deal more stubborn.

 

The hobbit pulled a cushion into his lap and traced the embroidered pattern on it while Thorin sectioned a piece of his brassy curls, and tried to keep it separate from the rest of Bilbo’s ill-mannered hair. “You’ll have to let this grow out a little more for a proper braid,” He said. If the hobbit had been the same person he was at the start of the journey he would have said no to that immediately. Longer hair was reserved for the females of the shire, thank you.

 

“We might be able to arrange an agreement on that,” He replied, feeling his already curled lips twitch further up. Thorin’s calloused fingers worked an even plait against his scalp, expertly snagging curls and taming them into a style that somewhat resembled Thorin’s own braids. It started near his temple and pulled back away from his face and down to hide behind the large, wedged point of his ear where it dangled away from his scalp and mingled with the excited curls that dusted the collar of his coat. Bilbo’s shorter, softer fingers cautiously brushed over the plait and he felt the way it curved. Thorin needed to teach him how to bend braids so deftly.

 

“And what kind of agreement would I have to make for you to grow this out?” One hand held the braid together as the other raked through the hair along the top of Bilbo’s head. The hobbit closed his eyes and leaned into the touch appreciatively. It was a sensation he hadn’t had since his mother had passed away, and after being deprived of it for so long he realized just how much he had missed it.

 

“Hmmm… Well, how about we wait until after the whole dragon part of this quest to decide on that? I do recall you saying that you don’t want any further distractions after tonight.” Bilbo tipped his head back and grinned at Thorin who frowned at being denied his hobbit’s wish. Again, Bilbo blamed the ale for his courageously teasing language. A Took could flirt better than the rest of Hobbiton when presented with a good pint.

 

“Wouldn’t that be considered a distraction?” Thorin reached into an inner pocket of his tunic and retrieved something that Bilbo couldn’t manage to catch a glance of. His head was pushed back into a forward facing position and Bilbo sighed a suffering sound as he did as he was directed. A gentle ‘snick’ sounded behind his ear and Thorin’s hand released his braid.

 

“I would like to think of it more as an incentive.” Bilbo felt for the bead in his hair and smiled again as he felt the smooth sides of a clean, hexagonal bead between his fingertips. He wondered where Thorin had gotten it since it didn’t match any of his beads- current or past.

 

“Incentive for what exactly?” He listened to the boots step around the couch and watched as Thorin entered his sight again, only to drop onto the open space of the couch. He wanted to berate him for putting his dirty boots up on the opposite arm, but Thorin’s head quickly settled on the pillow in his lap and Bilbo found himself once again looking into the brilliant sapphires that made up Thorin’s eyes. He really was quite handsome, he admitted.

 

His fingers smoothed the hair that pushed back from his face and Bilbo chuckled, “Incentive to make sure I survive Smaug of course. Must I spell everything out for you in the future? Insufferable dwarf,” He smoothed his thumb over Thorin’s forehead and those sapphires fell behind a beautiful fringe of dark lashes. He found his right hand soon held in one of Thorin’s and squeezed it. Being like this sent a flurry of warmth through him that he couldn’t blame on drink or flame.

 

“I have half a mind to tear up your contract and release you from your vows to find my birthright, if only to ensure that you will not have to face him, now or ever.” Bilbo’s thumb slowed but didn’t stop, and Thorin’s hand clamped around his other, giving Bilbo just a glimpse of the regret that the dwarf felt now that he had become so attached to the brave hobbit he was using as a pillow.

 

“Even if you were to go through all of that trouble, do you think I would turn my back on you and the company just because of one dragon that may not even be alive anymore?” He traded his thumb for his index finger and pressed away the worry line between Thorin’s streaked brows. A frown replaced the wrinkles and Bilbo trailed his finger over the broad bridge of Thorin’s nose, wrapping his arm around to the other side of his head so he could keep a clear view of his face. He wanted to look upon that face for as many days as he was allowed from this point forward.

 

“I would ask the master of this town to guard you and keep you safe until my return,” He countered, though his argument was weak. Bilbo had shown true courage and selflessness on this journey, and while Thorin wanted to protect, Bilbo knew that the leader would also want to keep him at his side. Who would do a better job at keeping the hobbit safe, than the dwarf who desired him the most?

 

“I would slip away from him and follow after you. I’ve been quite lucky so far with my sneakiness, I feel that it would help me get that far. Would you really have me waste the last of that luck trailing after the company instead of using it where I will need it most?” His fingers turned over and rubbed against the scratchy, short hairs of Thorin’s bearded cheek. “I am coming with you, even if the mere thought of being incinerated makes me feel light-headed.”

 

“Stubborn Hobbit,” Thorin muttered, catching his other hand and once again pressing his mouth to it. Only, this wasn’t the promise he had touched to his skin the first time, this was a warm touch to the center of his palm that lingered. When his dwarf felt satisfied by it, Bilbo withdrew his hand and raised Thorin’s to do the same, touching his lips to a cracked, pointed knuckle.

 

“Best get used to it, My King.” Bilbo offered him a smile that looked stronger than he felt, but Thorin returned it with a warm look in his eyes. If someone told him before his quest that he would see such a soft, pleasant look on the king’s face, he would have pointed them off to Underhill to get evaluated by one of the healers! Now, though… He hoped that Thorin would allow him more of those looks. Glances of them between meetings, and a few stolen seconds in the halls of his lost kingdom.

 

His eyes widened when Thorin pulled him down by the back of the neck to press his lips against his own. It was unexpected, but not unwanted. His ears turned a brilliant scarlet but Bilbo pressed back and smiled, feeling the dwarf’s lips curl against his own. He broke the kiss with a soft nip and sat up again, still hunched over Thorin’s head, still painted pink and red, “What was that for?”

 

“Must I have a reason to share a kiss with you?” Thorin’s thumb rubbed circles against the corner of his jaw and Bilbo greedily lent into it.

 

“Considering that was the first true kiss between us, I would like to think you had a reason to steal it so quickly.” Thorin laughed at him again, and Bilbo pinched his earlobe between the knuckles of his first two fingers in gentle reprimand.

 

“Hearing you call me yours… Hearing you call me _your king_ has an effect on me that prevents my self-restraint from holding me back.”

 

Bilbo laughed and tugged on Thorin’s ear teasingly, “Then I have found myself a powerful weapon to use on you when I desire certain outcomes.” Thorin growled and pulled him back down for another series of chaste kisses, brushing their mouths together slowly and firmly. Had he said chaste? He meant searing.

 

“I will have to find one of my own weapons to use against you then, Bilbo.” The hobbit smiled and stole one more kiss, short, quick, and feather light.

 

“Bilbo!” He turned his head toward the door and was shocked to find Fili and Kili fighting over who entered the room first. Kili pushed Fili down and back just enough to slip through and the older prince scowled at his ‘dirty tactics’. The hobbit rolled his eyes but continued to smile and waited for them to stop bickering long enough to tell him what they were doing there. The only thing that managed to stop them from having a full-out brawl in the room, was Thorin’s stoic face peering over the couch.

 

Fili elbowed Kili and pointed; his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open. The brunette followed suit and Bilbo propped his chin on his palm as he looked at the two of them, waiting for their explanation still, “Yes, what did you boys need? Run out of ale, need me to find you another keg or two?”

 

Kili looked tempted by the idea and almost agreed to it before Fili nudged him again, “No, we just couldn’t find you downstairs. Thought you had pulled another one of your hobbity disappearing acts on us again and run home now that you’re this close to the mountain.”

 

Bilbo frowned at them and sighed through his nose, “I’ve faced goblins, trolls, men, elves, orcs, wargs, and a massive skin changing bear. I’ve had to camp in the wild with thirteen dwarves- I think I’ve been able to prove that I’m not just going to run off on you.” The boys ducked their heads and sobered up a little, but Bilbo waved them over anyway, “But you weren’t really trying to hunt me down just to find me, were you?”

 

They stumbled over each other as they made it around the couch and Thorin grumbled as he was forced to sit up. Kili whistled when he noticed their braids and the gleaming bead dangling behind Bilbo’s ear, “Looks like we’re interrupting something Fili!” He grinned at his brother who matched the look easily.

 

“Well, that’s a good thing! Got to keep Bilbo pure for his wedding day!” The boys snickered and Bilbo huffed at them, narrowed his eyes and turned back around on the couch so he could face them properly. Well, as properly as a hobbit could when the room was twice as large as it should have been for someone like him. He surely felt like a Halfling here, much as he did whenever he ventured out to Bree.

 

“You’d have to go back a good sum of years if that was your intention then,” He scoffed and watched as the young princes either stole the spot between him and Thorin or sat on the unoccupied cushion on the floor. He relaxed at the feeling of being nearly surrounded by them but his smile stretched into existence again at the disbelieving choke that came from not one, but three dwarves. “What, did you expect me to be a prude? You know so little about hobbit culture.”

 

Fili looked at him over his knee and Kili turned to his uncle who looked equally shocked, curious and…. Something else that Bilbo didn’t want to put too much thought into right this moment. He passed the embroidered pillow over to Kili who held it dumbly with an expression mixed between his shock, and his confusion at being gifted something as silly as a cushion. “You’ve had another lover, then?” The archer asked.

 

Bilbo turned his hands to Fili’s hair and undid one of his new beads with a nonchalant shrug, “More than one. I’ve had relations with a few lasses in the shire when I was much younger, even a lad at one point when I realized they were just as handsome as any female would be. He was very pretty; eyes as green as the leaves of the old forest, hair pale as daffodils. We only met twice before his family arranged a marriage with his wife, and neither of us expected more than what we had at the time. His family moved him into a smial in north farthing and I don’t think I’ve seen him since, to be perfectly honest.”

 

He combed through the loosened braids and finger-brushed through most of Fili’s hair for a while, letting him relax on the couch. The dwarves were surprisingly quiet for some time and Bilbo chanced a glance over to the two sitting beside him. Kili was looking at him with a strange expression and Thorin had opted to look at the fireplace with slightly furrowed brows. The brunette tilted his head and opened his mouth, before aborting what he had wanted to ask. Bilbo turned back to the dark blonde hair in front of him and Kili tried again, “Is… That normal in the shire? To be with so many?”

 

Bilbo hummed in affirmation and parted Fili’s hair to start properly combing it, “It is. I wouldn’t call it many in my case, but it is not unusual for a hobbit to partner with a few others before settling into a courtship. Arranged courtships are normal as well for the higher ranking hobbits. I’ve been in one and broken it off. The second one I had ended badly as well and I haven’t tried again since then. At least, not until now I think.”

 

Fili dropped his head back against Bilbo’s leg and frowned at the ceiling as the hobbit untangled more of his mane, “What caused your courting to end?” He asked, flicking his eyes up toward Bilbo. The hobbit doubted that he could see little more than the barest amount of curls on the top of his head. It wasn’t usually something that he liked to talk about, but he knew that eventually, these things would come to the surface. However, he didn’t like how quiet Thorin was being through this whole discussion.

 

“What usually ends any courtship I suppose.” He found another portion of hair and ran the silver teeth of his comb through it from end to root before delving further into his answer. He could feel expectant eyes on him and tried not to shoot a dark look at anyone. He brought it up, he should be able to explain it, “The first one was an arrangement between our parents, with the agreement that if we didn’t take to one another that we could break it off. You don’t normally get that option.”

 

Bilbo carded his fingers through again and smiled as Fili’s eyes closed. The blonde had a sweet spot that he had found at Beorn’s and he liked to use it any chance he got. Unlike Thorin, Fili loved having his hair parted over and over again, even if Bilbo didn’t have to do it. Kili’s spot was the nape of his neck and around the soft baby hair that curled there as well. Bilbo had bound his hair into a ponytail one day and Kili practically melted when he found the spot while combing all of his dark hair into one bundle. The hobbit really enjoyed seeing him with a ponytail, it laid to rest the anxiety of Kili one day catching himself in his bowstring and ripping out a portion of his locks.

 

“She was a very sweet, bright hobbit. Harebell was a wonderful cook and she embroidered expertly especially for her young age. She was pleasant company and even humored me with stories her parents used to tell her about the fae of the woods. I’d offer her my small adventure stories in return, and we became great friends over the months we courted. Fili I need for you to sit up, I can’t get the back of your head,” Fili groaned and did as he was told when the hobbit tugged on a section, “Thank you.

 

As I was saying, we became great friends. She loved all of the neighborhood children, even entertained my cousins when we visited them in Tookburough. However, I noticed that we were missing an important aspect of our relationship,” Bilbo frowned as he untangled a particularly stubborn knot. Where had that come from? He had brushed Fili down the other day, surely he couldn’t get so tangled in only a few days’ time! But then he remembered the cells of Mirkwood and the harsh waters of the river.

 

“What was it that you were missing?” Bilbo looked over to Thorin who had asked the question. There was a darker look on his face, not angry but almost… Jealous in a way, and forlorn. Bilbo gave a weak smile and sighed again. He was doing that a lot lately.

 

“Love. You see, she was a wonderful lass, and most arrangements hardly ever have the bond of friendship between them so we felt particularly lucky on that front. Harebell had eyes for another hobbit though. She’s quite happy with him now too! She has eight children, and almost all of them have his dark hair. I think she might have even been pregnant when I left.

 

“But see, she wasn’t the only one who was missing love in our courtship. I valued her greatly but I couldn’t find it in me to love her in the way a husband would love a wife. When we realized it couldn’t happen between the two of us, I broke off our engagement and introduced her to her husband.” Bilbo smiled at the memory of a shy hobbit being lead out into a party by a girl with bright orange hair and grey eyes.

 

Finally free of tangles, Bilbo gathered Fili’s hair again and found himself twisting to strands together much like the pattern that Fili had in his beard. He had a little trouble with it at first but Kili showed him just how to get the pieces to come together and soon he was off with quick confident twists. Three of them on either side were pulled back and clipped into place with Kili’s help, and he was left to do the four that framed around Fili’s face on his own. “… And what about your second courtship? I mean, what went wrong there?”

 

Bilbo fought with the bead and used it as an excuse to stay silent for some time. Eventually, Kili took it from him and popped open the latch. They were makeshift after all; the only ones in the company who seemed to have kept their beads had been Nori and Ori. Everyone else had been stripped of anything metal that could have been made into a weapon. Bilbo suspected that the accessories had been taken to humiliate the dwarven captives but he kept that to himself. “Well, Kili, she turned out to be very unpleasant. While I had genuinely liked her, she was more interested in my position, what I could potentially become, and the wealth that came with being one of the few Bagginses left in Hobbiton. Once I realized what she was planning I ended things. Didn’t even give her a departing gift, just sent her on her way back to her family.”

 

The dwarves didn’t like her just from his short explanation and he could see it. Fili’s shoulders had set and Kili’s face darkened. He figured they would understand the situation considering their royal blood, but again he knew very little about Dwarvish culture. From the sounds of it, they didn’t court very often, and they certainly didn’t share beds with many others either. He felt like he should ask but Bilbo stayed quiet and hoped someone else would find another, more pleasant topic for them to discuss.

 

“There we are, now trade places. Come on, I’m very tired you know,” Bilbo pat Fili’s shoulders once everything was back in place and the dwarf slowly lumbered back up onto his feet. He complained about having just gotten comfortable, but Kili was quick to drop down into the vacated spot, sitting alert and stick straight in anticipation of what Bilbo would do this time.

 

The eldest prince didn’t move to take Kili’s seat, which caused Bilbo to pause as Fili felt around his pockets and sleeves until he removed another makeshift bead. It was dark and peppered with dimples from being hammered out but he looked pleased none the less, “It’s temporary but I made a few more while we were waiting at Bard’s. Figured I’d give it to you as a blessing for your relationship with our uncle. He’s going to be a tough one to get along with and you’ll need all the help you can get with him.” Thorin grunted at him and Bilbo couldn’t hide his laugh as Fili jabbed at Thorin’s manners.

 

“I’d be glad to accept it. I’m not sure where you’ll put it though.”

 

Fili waved the thought away and circled back behind Bilbo, “We’ll just have to put it above the one you have already. I think Kili has one he wants to give you too,” At the mention of it, Kili unveiled a similar looking bead, though it was smooth and lighter in color than the one Fili had. Bilbo took it and rolled it over his palm with a pleased smile. The thought that the boys supported them filled his chest with a warm feeling.

 

“I won’t have any loose hair by the time you’re done,” He chuckled and passed it back to Kili who grinned brightly, “Maybe that will be a good thing. Less hair to be singed off once I sneak into that massive mountain on the other side of the lake.”

 

“I’m going to make sure to put a spell on you for that then!” Kili looked determined but Bilbo doubted that the dwarf could really guarantee the hobbit would be fireproof when he enters the lair of a dragon. He didn’t say so, just urged Kili to turn back around so he could undo the messy braids that had been roughly handled by the last leg of their journey. “Could you do that thing you did last time?”

 

Bilbo watched Kili pull his hair up to mimic the ponytail he had worn last time, “If that’s what you want, we’ll see what we can do about it.” He swatted Kili’s hands away and straightened out his hair again.

 

“You spoil them,” he heard Thorin say.

 

Bilbo just shrugged and smiled some more. “I remember hearing you say that after the Eagles. You might as well get used to it, Thorin. I’ll be spoiling you too, so there’s no need for you to be jealous of your nephews.” Fili tilted his head to the side so he could see what he was doing and Bilbo hoped that having the world slanted wouldn’t ruin Kili’s ponytail or the little braids he wanted to put in it.

 

What a sight they must have made; a daisy chain of braiding and grooming. He wondered what the other dwarves would think if they saw him like this, and tried not to laugh too much at the thought of Dwalin sputtering if he happened on them. “I’m not jealous. Dis may be once she finds out you’ve been placed in their favor,” Bilbo scoffed at the idea of Dis being jealous of him. She was their mother; he doubted he would ever outrank her in any way.

 

They stayed like that for some time, Fili undid his braid and tried again when he wasn’t satisfied with the width of it, and Kili eventually fell asleep against Bilbo’s knee, muttering about the ale he had left downstairs. Thorin took up his pipe and smoked what little pipeweed the town master had parted with and Bilbo kept smoothing his hand over the side of Kili’s head. He hoped he would be able to do this more often once the dwarves finally had their mountain back. He missed this feeling of family, and while he never thought he would find it in a pack of dwarves, he was pleased that he could find it again.

 

“He’ll be upset that he didn’t get to give you his braid,” Fili rounded the couch and looked at his brother who snored into Bilbo’s kneecap and sighed at him. Bilbo felt the second braid on his head and dipped his head in thanks for it while the blonde heaved his younger brother up out of the floor. Kili didn’t even twitch as Fili slung him over his shoulder.

 

“I’m sure he’ll find time in the morning. Go get some rest. They’ll expect us to go early, probably just after dawn.” Bilbo got up and followed them to the door, cradling Kili’s head so Fili didn’t slam it into the doorway like he nearly had, “Be nice to him, Fili, he’s going to have a headache in the morning from all of his drink. Don’t add to that.” Fili just grinned and trotted off down the hall to the next available room, poor Kili flapped behind him limply and Bilbo sighed after them.

 

He closed the door behind them and turned to look at the last dwarf in the room, Thorin. He was finishing his pipe and Bilbo regretted that he hadn’t stolen a puff or two of smoke, “Come on, to bed with you too. You’ll want rest to put on that stoic, judgmental look you like so well for the sendoff tomorrow.” Thorin half-heartedly glared at Bilbo over his shoulder and tapped out the leftover embers onto a metal plate before standing.

 

The hobbit turned to his next chore, the bed. He moved to the far side and folded down the covers with some effort. The blankets and sheets were heavy and thick, which he supposed was a good thing considering how cold and wet the town was by nature. “What I would do for a proper sized bed.”

 

“Soon enough, Hobbit,” Thorin’s hands touched his shoulders and Bilbo jumped before turning around and batting his chest.

 

He narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t sneak up on me!”

 

Thorin smirked at him as he pulled him closer and Bilbo didn’t resist. He sighed as he leaned into the king, letting his hands touch around his ribs, “I’m not certain that a dwarf bed is quite the right size either. We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

 

“So long as that bed is mine, then yes.” Thorin dropped his hands down to Bilbo’s waist and the hobbit squeaked as he was lifted onto the edge of the bed. His ears twitched and he sputtered as he clung to the front of Thorin’s shirt, but before he could get any sort of remark out, lips were against his own again. Soft, gentle and warm despite the chapped texture. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took a deal longer to post this part. I had intentions of having more... intimate details added to this chapter but I realized that this wasn't posted as a mature work. I thought about changing the rating but I want to make sure you guys are comfortable with it! If not, I could always post it as a separate work. (:
> 
> We'll be leaving lake town soon, I hope you're ready for the road ahead!


	12. Unravelled

That morning he woke up with a content feeling he hadn’t experienced since the shire. Warm and slightly weighed down, and expectant of what the day would bring. They met Kili downstairs who insisted that he was going to give Bilbo his bead and his spell of protection, and Bilbo sat patiently as the archer wove his ‘magic’ braid into place. Breakfast was anything they could scrape together from the feast last night, and then they were rushed to dress in the ‘fine armor’ of Lake Town as a blessing from the greedy town master.

 

Bofur just barely made it in time to climb onto the boat before they shuttled off across the eerily quiet and still waters of the long lake. The loud cheering of the town faded behind them, slowly to be replaced with the realization that they had made it to their goal. The mountain loomed in front of them and cast a shadow that demanded attention, and the boat fell into a quiet that Bilbo felt intimidated by. They passed more scorched and fallen towers as the dwarves rowed them to the far shore, and Bilbo felt his stomach twist at the thought of all the lives that had been lost in the onslaught of a greed-riddled dragon.

 

Gandalf did not meet them at their meeting place. The ruins of Dale howled forlornly at them from across the valley and Bilbo shuddered at the hollow song they sang. He wished that the wizard had kept his promise and that Thorin had done the same, but soon the company was moving onward to the mountain. They traversed over crumbling stairways and climbed the side of a fallen tower to get to their destination. The statue of a proud dwarf holding his battle weapon rose up from the side of the mountain, chipped, aged, and cradling light patches of hearty ivy and bramble bushes.

 

Bilbo tried to imagine what it looked like when the dwarves of Erebor had lived inside of their kingdom and falsely painted an image of light stone with metal accents and glowing bronze braziers highlighting the best angles to bring the gates and statues to life. He hoped that one day he would be able to see that come back to the mountain and that he would be able to confidently say he was the one who helped raise the kingdom from its ashes back into its glowing beauty. He wanted more than anything for this quest to have a positive outcome. He wanted the dragon inside the mountain to be in such a deep slumber that he would never wake again.

 

He had hoped for too much. Smaug had been more than alive in his hoard and had decorated himself in a coat of gemstones and gold. Every time he had turned his head a shower of silvers and golds would rain from his scales onto the cold stone floors. His mighty tail whipped uncaringly through the treasury and dislodged a column that fell with such force the hobbit nearly tumbled into a grave of coin and swords. Barbed words were thrown at him effortlessly and poisoned him with doubt, guilt, and dread.

 

Bilbo had been the one to unleash the dragon onto Lake Town. Even from this distance, he could pick up the screams and cries of terror as Smaug plundered their town again, bringing death and destruction to a settlement that had nothing to do with the mountain and everything to do with the hobbit’s morals. It was his fault, and yet there was nothing he could hope to do against it. They stayed glued to their spots at the top of the stairs in front of Erebor and watched as boats fled to Erebor’s shores while Smaug rained fire onto their homes. So many people died, all because Bilbo had gone into the mountain without Gandalf there to support them, to find a forsaken stone.

 

When Smaug had finally been slain, and the dwarves reentered the mountain, Bilbo was left there in the wreckage of the broken gate to make a decision. Give Thorin the Arkenstone, or keep it hidden until their wizard could come to their aide. He tucked his hand into the inner pocket of his coat and touched the cold, smooth surface of the stone he had stolen and quietly cursed it for having caused this whole ordeal to happen. As beautiful and mystical as it was, he hated the Kings Jewel.

 

He hated dragon sickness even more. It was painful to watch their leader descend into madness. Thorin accused them all of hiding the stone from him even as he stared longingly at the glowing piles of gold and gems his forefathers had collected and kept over the centuries of their lifetimes. He wouldn’t hear reason, and the only times Bilbo could get a glimpse of the dwarf he had loved were the fleeting moments that he could take Thorin’s attention away from his hunt. He would lead Thorin away from the treasury as far as the dwarf would allow him, under the pretenses of wanting to learn more about the other treasures and wealth of Erebor.

 

It worked occasionally. Thorin would speak of his kingdom with a pride that wasn’t tinted in greed, he would be pulled from talking about the worth of the veins of metal that decorated the walls, and instead, give them personal worth of the short times he had with his siblings in the great halls of the dwarvish city. Bilbo often found himself wishing that Dis had appeared in the mountain the day after Smaug had been dealt with to knock more sense into her brother and bring him back to their plain of reality.

 

And today was no different. He sat at the edge of the armory, listening to the rest of the company as they cleaned up the mess there, pulling together sets of armor from what had been left behind, and hanging them with everything else on stands and on walls. Swords, a stray bow, a disappointing pair of daggers, each of these items slowly found their old homes on racks as they were cleared from the floor. Bilbo had been helping until he nearly took his hand off with a two handed sword that was much too heavy for a small thing like him to lift. He was quickly exiled to the four point hallway which divided the armory into each of its own sections. Places for light armor, heavy armor, and weapons, with the last hall leading outward.

 

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired face, fingers skimming the frayed braids on each side of his head that hadn’t been redone since he entered Erebor. The princes had kept him plenty of company while taking breaks from the treasury, and while he had managed to redo Fili and Kili’s hair only once, they had been too busy to return the favor after that. Thorin shortened their breaks and quickly sent each dwarf back into the mountains of gold to find his beloved Arkenstone.

 

Bilbo looked down at his lap and frowned as he scrubbed his toes against the dusty path. They wouldn’t be able to find it there, and he knew it. His hand reached into his coat again and he hesitated at the pocket that held the jewel before diving further back to the smaller pocket that held his small collection of wooden beads. He withdrew them and carefully ran his fingers over each in turn, tracing shapes and following the edges, “What do you have there?” Thorin’s voice made Bilbo jump and clutch at the buttons anxiously. He turned in time to see Thorin striding to him with a look on his face the hobbit knew too well.

 

“It’s nothing,” He stammered, fingers clenching around his precious memories. Thorin’s face darkened and Bilbo looked down at his white knuckles held close to his stomach.

 

“Show it to me,” The king demanded and Bilbo felt a pang in his chest as he realized he was being accused of holding the treasure that Thorin desired the most.

 

Bilbo’s hand slowly unfurled and a confused look crossed Thorin’s face as he noticed the pile of wooden buttons sitting in his palm, “I was worried I might have lost them when we were distracting the dragon,” He said. His voice was quiet and he dared a small glance up to the dark blue eyes he had once admired. They were nearly black by now, stormy with thoughts of being deceived, of being robbed of his birthright. It twisted his heart to see how far Thorin had fallen.

 

“They are nothing more than wooden buttons. I will have some made of our finest jewels for you once the Arkenstone has been found,” Thorin’s hand stretched out to take his wrist and Bilbo flinched back at the touch. The king either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.

 

“They are more important to me than gems or gold, Thorin,” He traded his buttons to his free hand and placed them back into his coat, “They are gifts from our friends, and each is worth more to me than a ruby or even a sapphire would be. I had hoped I would find some time to sew them onto a new coat once everything was settled.”

 

Thorin’s hand flexed against his wrist before he laced their fingers together and turned to lead him from the armory, ignoring Bilbo’s protests as they followed the familiar path back to the gold room, “We will find something more fitting for the Consort under the mountain, then. Something worthy enough for you to sew your buttons onto- anything that would be better than the rags the men of Lake Town have dressed you in.”

 

Bilbo looked over his shoulder, hoping that someone would stop them with the excuse of needing help from either of them, but none of the other dwarves had noticed their sudden departure. Bilbo tried his best to avoid the treasury by whatever means possible. The look that Thorin liked to wear while peering into his vaults unsettled him to no avail, and here he was, walking down the stairs into the dragon pit. He turned his eyes away from the metals and gems and instead focused on the high ceilings, the broken column, the braziers that lit the room but never seemed to make it to the top. Those were the treasures he wanted to view the most; the wonders of the dwarves, their skill, and their mastery.

 

“This way, Hobbit,” Bilbo was pulled forward and down to a smaller side room where collections of cloth and tables of particular gems were laid out. Any other day he would have marveled at the bolts of cloth, from the softest cotton, the most deftly woven wools, elegant silks and lavish, thick velvets. Shades of green, blue, grey, red, even bolts of black fabric with delicate gold embroidery needled its way through the walls of the smaller vault. Bilbo turned his eyes away from them and fleetingly glanced over the tables of cut gems, sized for buttons, lapels, closures, rings, necklaces, beads- all of them so expertly cut that they seemed to glow against the velvet cushions they sat upon.

 

“What are these?” Bilbo asked, mostly to himself. Thorin had stepped further in to inspect some material he thought would suit Bilbo but had heard him anyway. The hobbit brushed his fingers lightly over a hefty mound of pure white stones that did in fact glow with their own light. The distant words of Thranduil whispered in his head ‘gems of pure starlight’ and Bilbo felt his ears droop. The treasure that the woodland king had requested in return for aiding Thorin on his quest. The gems that Thorin would have rather denied the king than accept his help.

 

“The White Gems of Lasgalen.” Thorin’s hand stretched out from beside Bilbo and plucked a gleaming necklace from the center of the pile. The white gems scattered over velvet and bounced into the floor with quiet tick-tacks as the piece of jewelry was exposed, “Something I refuse to place on you even if it were the last gem in Erebor.” He dropped the necklace and sent the gems sailing further through the room. Bilbo scrambled to catch the ones that went his way and crouched to collect the ones at his feet.

 

They glimmered in his hands and he sat them back on their pedestal while biting his tongue. He hadn’t asked because he wanted them, but some part of him argued that he should only request those if only to pull Thorin out of his frenzy about gold and into a level-headed argument that Bilbo could easily win. “You know that I have no desire of gemstones, Thorin.”

 

“What is it that you do desire?” Bilbo thought to look for the other scattered stones but Thorin’s presence at his side kept him standing where he was. The king rested his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and he closed his eyes at the warm, gentle touch. As much as he wanted to believe that it was his Thorin standing there with him, he knew that the sickness still ruled over him.

 

“Happiness. A chance to do good, an opportunity to right any wrongs I may have done,” He pushed his bangs back away from his face and ran his fingertips over his braids, cradled one of the beads between his fingers. The hexagonal shape told him that it belonged to Thorin, and he felt his stomach twist.

 

“You have done nothing wrong.”

 

“I unleashed a dragon onto a town of people who expected us to protect them. I think that is more than wrong, Thorin.” Bilbo gripped the bead a little tighter and turned around to lean against the lip of the table. He took a slow breath through his nose and puffed it out through his lips as he looked distractedly upon the bolts of cloth Thorin had left unraveled for him. They were each beautiful in their own right and would complement the king’s attire well. A swath of red and green draped over each other pulled his attention but he stayed where he was.

 

“You had no control over that dragon or his rampage. Lake Town will rebuild, they have done it once and they will continue to do it.” Thorin’s tone was set like stone and Bilbo knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

 

A frown pulled at the corner of his lips, “Do you not intend to send them reparations for the damages done?”

 

“Why should I help them? Their greedy leader only desires the riches of the mountain.”

 

Bilbo’s hand dropped away from his braid and he turned to look at Thorin’s proud profile. His large, pointed nose, the waves and curls of ebony and silver, the heavy black and gold crown that rested upon his head. That wasn’t a crown meant for Thorin. “Because you made a promise to them. No matter how little they helped or how selfish they are in doing it for a reward, you promised that you would share the wealth of Erebor with them as Erebor once had with Dale. Does your word mean so little to you that you would turn your back on them? Is this the kind of king that you want to become?” His tongue felt dry and his hands clenched at his sides.

 

If he had known that gold would do this to his dwarf, he would have never found that keyhole. He wouldn’t have promised to return them to their kingdom. Thorin’s face darkened and Bilbo found himself tilting his head back to look him in the face as the dwarf stood at his full height. It was nothing compared to that of a man or elf, but even dwarves were taller than hobbits.

 

“If it prevents thieves from entering Erebor and taking everything that belongs to my people, I will turn my back on any promise. What help did they provide us? Food that I had to barter for? Clothing they would have thrown out? A boat fit for fishing?” Thorin scoffed at the idea and Bilbo’s frown deepened as he continued to speak. “I will not send even one solitary coin to them for this ‘selfless’ behavior you think they have shown us.”

 

“Then I won’t ask for you to give it to them!” Bilbo narrowed his eyes. Something had snapped inside of him and turned his blood to fire, “If you remember correctly, I am owed one-fourteenth share of whatever wealth has been found in Erebor. No part of my contract stated that I could not use it for whatever I desired, and right now I think it would do a world of good to send some, if not all of it, to the people of Lake Town.”

 

“You would turn behind my back and throw away the gold we have just secured?” Bilbo could see Thorin’s anger rising to the surface but stayed his ground as he was pinned with an outraged stare. “I refuse it!”

 

“This is not something that you can refuse, _O King Under The Mountain_. Or is this another promise that you would turn your back on ‘for the safety of your people’?”

 

“Yes! I will not have you wasting it on those men! This is meant to be our treasure!”

 

Bilbo swallowed and dropped his gaze. The room fell silent and he was left looking at the golden bands of color that struck against Thorin’s royal armor. “I see.”

 

He turned away and took a few steps toward the door only to stop and raise his hand up to his hair. He didn’t bother with being gentle as he pulled each bead from his head, hesitating as he undid the ones Fili and Kili had given him in good faith. He looked at them in his palm and tried not to let his regret win him over before sitting them on the edge of the nearest tabletop, “Then you may keep your riches to yourself. I refuse to court someone who cannot see reason.” His hand dropped back to his side and before he could convince himself to take the words back, he left the room.

 

The hobbit climbed the gold strewn stairs that lead to the bottom of the vaults and wove his way through each passageway that would lead him to the ramparts. He blinked away his blurring vision and kept a straight face as he passed by the hall that led down to the armory, silently thankful that no one called for him.

 

The fresh air that burned at his face was refreshing and thoroughly needed despite the chill it brought. He hadn’t even realized that it was midday while he was inside the mountain, and he wondered just how many days had passed without them knowing. Three? Four? Dwarves must be able to tell time in some way while they were underground.

 

Bilbo leaned against the railing that was made of stacked stone from Smaug’s escape and took a slow breath to try and ease his nerves and settle his emotions. Somewhere between the ramparts and the treasury, he had lost his steam, and now he wasn’t so certain he had made the right choice. Would Thorin even care at this point? Their relationship was so new, and despite being called a true friend, Thorin appeared to change his opinion on matters at the bat of an eye now.

 

“What are you doing out here all by yourself, Master Baggins?” Bilbo turned his head toward the familiar voice of Balin and offered a rueful smile before looking back out at the debris-strewn field in front of him.

 

“Contemplating…. Wondering if I can beat the snow to Beorn’s or maybe even Rivendell. I don’t think I’ll be welcome here for too much longer,” Bilbo rubbed his hands together and tucked them under his arms as another wind pressed into the mountainside.

 

“Now what has you thinking like that?” Balin walked from the hidden path onto the platform with him. Bilbo could see how tired Balin had become ever since Thorin had declared a hunt for the stone, and something told him that the old scholar could understand him if he decided to explain himself. Really, he needed someone to talk to.

 

“I can’t stay here when he’s like this, Balin. I can’t…. I won’t watch him ruin himself and destroy every good thing around him over that blasted room. I won’t watch him turn his back on the people who come to him for help. I don’t think it matters to him whether I come or go at this point. He’s changed, and I think I’d rather have had him stay as the stubborn, distrusting dwarf that showed up on my doorstep if I had known this would happen.” Balin hummed in acknowledgment and sat his gloved hands on the rail.

 

Bilbo let his eyes trail even further forward to the still smoking remains of Lake Town on the horizon. “I said I would give Lake Town my share of the gold to repair the damages I’ve done and he looked ready to throw me away then and there.”

 

“Did he?” Bilbo cast Balin a curious look, “Throw you away?”

 

Balin’s eyes looked pointedly at the unraveling braids on the side of his head and Bilbo raised his hand to cup over them, “I did it for him.” The words came out just above a whisper and Bilbo had to look away to avoid the disappointed look he was certain Balin wore. He didn’t know if he could take someone else being upset at him.

 

“Then perhaps he will come to his senses. Give him a day or two. If he doesn’t come back to himself, then we’ll escort you back to your little hole in the ground.” Balin squeezed his shoulder and Bilbo found a gentle smile on his face at the support he was being shown. “I’d like to think that if anyone could pull him out of this sickness, it would be you. You have managed to pull off a few other impossible stunts before, so I’ll just trust that you can do it again.”

 

“Impossible seems like the right word in this case.” Bilbo didn’t have nearly as much faith in himself that Balin did. It showed how little he believed that he could turn Thorin back, but Balin just pat his shoulder some more and after a while, they headed back inside to the temporary campfire they had made near one of the towers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this didn't have anyone in particular featured in it. I know that you guys have stayed with me so far for the fluff and the company interactions, but I hope that you don't mind a smidge of angst!
> 
> I skipped over the major scene holding Smaug just because I wasn't sure it would do much good to recap it for the story. I hope it came out decently anyway. The next chapter might be a little delayed, but if it is, I'll try to add more content to it while I'm waiting for my internet to reappear at the start of next month. (:


	13. Tales

 

“Whatever he’s done, I’m sure he’s sorry about it! Please, you don’t have to go,” Kili pleaded with him like a fauntling who wanted nothing more than to have another big slice of pie and a good warm glass of milk. A fauntling that had been told no one too many times and looked on the verge of tears. Of course, Kili wasn’t going to cry over Bilbo, the Hobbit knew better than that. Their own personal archer had been through trials much more worthy of tears than seeing a Hobbit off from the front gates.

 

“If he were sorry he would have come to apologize to me directly, Kili,” Bilbo sighed. The princes had both insisted on redoing their braids in his hair, crowning him in a neat set of plaits with their plain, Lake-Town-made beads. They weren’t the beads that he had left with Thorin in one of the many side vaults of the treasury, but the two lads had already replaced their own with steadily crafted ornaments that claimed them as the heirs to the line of Durin, and how handsome did they look with them?

 

Bilbo’s hand smoothed over Fili’s braid again for the fourth time that hour and he wondered what he would do once he had left their company. He’d have to learn how to do it himself, he supposed. They’d be devastated if they found out their burglar had taken them out once he returned to the shire. “One more day, please Mister Boggins, just one more.”

 

Those wide, innocent eyes were hard for him to refuse- even more so when Fili was around to mimic the look. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to the darkening sky, having had hoped he would make it to the ruins of Dale before dark to report to Bard about their standings before going on his way the next day. A faint glow came from the chasm that surrounded the old city where they had lit braziers in the streets to keep warm and ward away the nightmares of the night. The menfolk would no doubt run him through if he came walking up to their gates this late in the evening, and he knew that had been Bofur’s plan when he delayed him at dinner earlier.

 

“Fine, yes, fine, but I’ll only be staying for the night, Kili. I’m afraid delaying this any further wouldn’t do any of us good,” Calloused hands slapped around his upper arms before he was pulled into an overly warm torso in a crushing hug.

 

“Thank you, I promise, you won’t regret it, you won’t! Let us give you a proper send-off as one of the company, and we’ll lead you to Beorn’s little hut. We won’t take no as an answer- really I’d like to escort you all the way back to the shire, but I don’t know if Thorin will appreciate it if we were gone for so long,” Kili kept going on mostly to himself as they walked back to their makeshift camp where most of the company had retired for the evening. He even went so far as to mention maybe taking Bilbo further past the Shire to the Blue Mountains to meet Dis. The dwarf insisted that they had to meet each other.

 

“Letters just don’t do when introducing a hobbit to a dwarrow dame. She mentioned wanting to speak with you personally, I think it’d be rude to ignore her request.”

 

“Letters? When have you found the time to send letters?” Bilbo asked disbelievingly. If he had parchment and ink he would have sent word back home ages ago to keep at least Hamfast up to date on his situation! How in the world had Kili been feeding letters to his mother?

 

Kili just grinned and slapped his shoulder again, keeping the hobbit firmly tucked under his arm and into his side, “Well, I made Fili leave one to be sent in Rivendell at one point, I don’t think we sent another until Beorn’s place, he had an owl who liked to fly to the blues every now and then he said. I don’t know if Fili has sent anything to our amad before the Ravens came back to Erebor. We’ve been writing her near-daily after finding some ink in the archives Ori uncovered.”

 

Rivendell, of course, Bilbo should have asked Lord Elrond if he wouldn’t be too burdened to send a letter back to the Shire for him while they were there. Maybe he would have if the company hadn’t made it a point to keep him with them while they were ‘caged’ with the elves in their court. Bilbo had only been able to sneak away one night to find the library and one of the many beautiful gardens that the elves kept before he was promptly escorted back to the camp balcony by Dwalin and Nori. An odd pair to see together but Bilbo hadn’t put too much thought into it at the time.

 

“Perhaps I should borrow a raven before I leave,” Bilbo murmured. Kili easily heard him and nodded vigorously at the idea, confirming that he would round up one of their fastest corvids in the morning for him to attach his letter and send to the Shire. Bilbo had to tell himself that a shorthand letter would have to make due, so as not to overwhelm the poor bird with a long-winded note.

 

“Kili talk you into staying for a little while longer?” Bofur’s grin told Bilbo that the dwarf knew as much, but he returned the look with a soft smile and a sigh of resignation.

 

“He did, I’m afraid. You’ll have to put up with my moping one more night if you’re willing to have me.”

 

“We’d have you longer than that if you would just give the word,” They knew that Bilbo wouldn’t, not with the situation they were in currently, but it warmed him to know that at least Bofur, Fili, and Kili felt that way.

 

Bilbo lowered himself onto a piece of rock with a quiet groan and slid his meager pack off of his shoulders, “Maybe I will find myself visiting in a few years, once all of the damage has been cleared away and the kingdom has settled itself again,” He chuckled. Kili looked excited at the prospect of a visit even though Bilbo was still there in front of him, and the hobbit had to wonder if he had many friends outside of the company to look forward to. Surely he had a few who would make the trip from the blue mountains? He thought to ask but the Ri brothers rounded onto their camp, arms full of books or parchment or some lumber for their small fire.

 

“Bilbo! I thought you left!” Ori’s face lit up as he stretched his legs a little further to meet him sooner than his older brothers. The young scribe had bloomed into quite the social butterfly other the last few months and Bilbo felt special knowing that he was one of the few who got to witness Ori’s excitement and openness.

 

“I intended to, but Kili is particularly good at looking like a babe who has been denied every good thing in this world,” Kili huffed and crossed his arms, but his posturing was easily replaced with a proud grin at his ‘grand’ feat before he trotted off to find his brother somewhere further in the mountain.

 

“I’m pleased he managed to keep you for a few more hours, I wanted to see if you’d be willing to go over my notes on Hobbits before you left. I wouldn’t want to be inaccurate- if that was alright with you?” Ori settled himself onto the ground near Bilbo’s rock and the hobbit was able to pick out some freshly scratched ink markings on the parchment sheets held against his torso.

 

“I would be glad to help. I’m afraid I can’t read dwarvish writing, however.”

 

“Oh, you won’t have to! I’ll just ask a few questions and make changes,” Nori and Dori made quick work of putting down their gathered items before disappearing again, and Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion that they were running away from the subject at hand. Nori even went so far as to mutter something about hobbit magic, and not wanting to be within arms-reach of it. Dori smiled good-naturedly at them and pulled the other dwarf away under the excuse of finding some more food for them to have in the morning.

 

~~~

 

Bilbo experienced another night similar to the small party held in Bag End, with less worrying about his precious plates and silverware, and more stories about each individual there. Dwarves came and went as their scheduled shifts to sift through the hoard came and passed, pulling Ori and Bofur away, and then Oin and Kili. Dwalin, Balin, Fili, and Bombur returned as each group traded between one another. He wished he could get them all there at once so they could enjoy one more meal together, even if Thorin refused to leave the gold alone.

 

“-And that’s how we found Dwalin half-naked on the battlefield the next morning!” A loud round of laughter painted the air at the dwarf’s expense who looked like he had just sucked on one of Bluebell’s pickled plums a half season too late.

 

“I wasn’t naked!” The old dwarf huffed at a grinning Fili. The blonde prince just grinned at him and sucked down another greedy drink of whatever alcohol they had managed to find in the reserves.

 

“Tell that to the lass that found you and nearly fainted at the sight. Never saw a bare-chested dwarf in a half pair of pants!”

 

“They had me by the shirt, what did you expect?” Bilbo chuckled behind his cup and diverted his gaze when Dwalin narrowed his eyes at him. He put on his best innocent look and sipped the water he had opted out for.

 

“Then what happened to your pants?” Gloin grumbled, a mouth full of bread muffling his words.

 

“Valar if I know. One moment I had pant legs, the next I didn’t. Damn things nearly took my boots as well!” Bilbo giggled with the others, unable to restrain it as he tried to imagine Dwalin in nothing but boots and a pair of short pants. At the start of the journey he might have been embarrassed for the dwarf but the course of their trip had allotted him more than a few chances to see Dwalin barrel across the shores of a poor lake or pond, stark naked to tackle one of the princes that had stolen Ori’s sling-shot to pelt him with small pebbles. Sometimes he thought Ori willingly gave them his little weapon just to get a rise out of the old warrior.

 

“Why don’t you tell us one of your stories, Bilbo? I’m sure you’ve got a tale or two from the shire. Any conquests?” Bilbo looked to see Bofur grinning from one ear to the next, rosy-cheeked as he cradled his mug in his hands between his knees. “What about those scares you’ve got there on your back? Did ya have a tussle with a stray cat while you were younger?” The dwarves around them chuckled at the idea but Bilbo remained silent as he rubbed the rim of his cup with his thumb.

 

“No, not exactly. It most definitely wasn’t a cat.” Something about his tone seemed to take the teasing laughter out of the room before he could do anything to save it. Really, he should have just kept his mouth shut and let the toy maker pick at him a little.

 

“Well, come on then, might as well tell us now,” Gloin couldn’t seem to stop talking around the food in his mouth. Bilbo wondered how he managed to build enough skill at it without choking himself on whatever he shoved into his face.

 

“It’s not a very exciting tale; honestly I doubt you’d find any interest in it. You all have fought off orcs and wargs, and you’ve gone against trolls and goblins after all. Nothing exciting like that happens in the shire. It’s why we have been able to cultivate and grow our little communities into the soft folk you saw on your way in. Sure, we have fighters, and each and every one of us would raise a pitchfork or whatever we could find to protect our own, but we’re simple folk with simple problems.” Bilbo spoke into his cup but everyone heard him rather clearly, leaning in to hear about a story that wasn’t a topic they normally spoke on.

 

“Come on laddie, you’ll be gone in the morning. It’s not like we’ll be able to tease you for it like we would on the road,” Balin’s voice held a comforting hue that had Bilbo cautiously looking up at him. He saw reassurance on his face and encouragement that was easily mimicked by the rest of the company sitting with them.

 

“It doesn’t have a happy ending, you know,” He didn’t get a response, just more silent stares as Gloin reached for another portion of dried beef. Bilbo sighed and sat his cup down in front of him, safely tucked against his stone seat so it wouldn’t be knocked over by a stray boot.

 

“Many years ago, when I was still just a tween, not nearly as tall as I am now,” He cut his eyes toward the dwarf who asked ‘you call that tall?’ and huffed at him, “Yes, I’m fairly tall for a hobbit, thank you!”

 

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Just before the end of harvest, an early frost came in and took what was left of the crops with it. We had plenty of food stored away for the cold season, and it wouldn’t be a harsh thing to go about and fish along the banks of the rivers or in one of the nearby lakes if we needed it, but you see this year was particularly difficult. The frost stayed, and an unusual amount of snow dusted the doorsteps of every smial throughout the Shire.

 

“Fauntlings covered in swaths of wool and thick cotton would rush out to play in the snow and ride on the drifts down the sides of gardens for the first few weeks. You’ve likely never seen someone so small, but you can imagine it would be a terrible day if one of them were lost in a snow pile or if they came too close to the groves and couldn’t find their way back. I’m thankful that there weren’t any cases like that at the time. The young ones were kept in line and in sight, and would always be herded back inside before noon to warm up and eat good hardy food.” Bilbo smiled as he remembered seeing some of Hamfast’s oldest children rolling down the slopes and whining when they were told to go home.

 

“I remember a winter in the Blue Mountains that cut off the traders, haven’t had a storm like that since,” Grumbles of agreement could be heard to back up Balin’s account.

 

“It was definitely a worrying time,” Bilbo said. He rubbed his hands together and threaded his fingers between one another, “The snow would have been passable by itself, I think. Quite a few doors were blocked once the second storm came in. It must have been a pretty terrible situation for everyone outside of the shire as well. The neighbors would come around and try to dig the others out but eventually, it got bad enough that everyone just stayed indoors and hoped it would blow past soon.”

 

Bilbo paused here for a moment and cocked his head to the side with a furrowed brow as he thought, “We don’t normally get predators. Maybe a stray sheep got lost in the old forest once every now and then, sometimes we’d have to scare out foxes or a stray dog or two. The Rangers would keep everything else pushed back and far enough away from Bree and Hobbiton that it was rare for wolves to come near the borders, much less cross them.

 

“The snow pushed out the deer and other small creatures that they relied upon through the winter, and so we were given the misfortune of being plagued with starving wolves. It was too cold and too difficult for the Rangers to keep scouting the main roads, so it was quite easy for them to sneak in. They’d come baying through the roads at all hours of the day and night, scratching at doors and howling their songs.

 

“One of our farmers lost his whole flock of sheep at one point, and while it was a terrible thing to have happened we hoped it would mean the wolves would leave and chase whatever else they might find back into the old forest. We thought it might have been just that scenario when they stopped howling. They didn’t claw at the doors, they didn’t prowl up and down the streets where one could see them through the half covered windows. We thought they left.”

 

He looked up, half expecting the circle to have found it boring to listen about wolves, but various sets of eyes were equally focused on him. Expressions of disbelief, worry, and interest passed between every dwarf, even the ones who had snuck in somewhere in the middle, not yet passing off the torch for the next pair to continue the search for King Thorin’s precious jewel. He felt bad for putting them through it when the jewel was right there sitting in his pocket, tucked away with an old burlap square wrapped around it for good measure. “Hobbits were starting to go mad with being locked away in their homes for months on end. Nothing to do but housework and read the same books, work on the same needlework, play the same games. Hobbits need sunlight, fresh air and the great outdoors to remain happy, and by that point, they were willing to brave the mounds of snow outside to get it again.

 

“Personally I had gotten tired of sitting in the smial all day. At the time I still went on my ‘adventures’ to see how far I could go almost every day. I wanted to find the elves in the forest, I wanted to watch the carts of men go past, and when I was still a fauntling I wanted to find the mysterious wizard who had a duel with me at the party for Old Took. I would sneak off, far into the shire and far to the borders, steal away a carrot here, climb an apple tree there,” The sneers at the mention of elves quickly fell away into smiles as Bilbo told of his childhood escapades.

 

“And I had planned on having a small adventure again this time. I packed some of the smoked fish and dried vegetables we had in the larder and waited for the sun to rise the next day before borrowing out of the piled snow- I’ll have you know I was terrified if my mother would find out I left snow in the front hall but it wasn’t enough to stop me,” More smiles and laughter crept out of the group, “I was getting outside one way or another, and I thought that just about any punishment would be worth it if I could just spend a few hours outside instead of locking myself up in the smial.”

 

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He dropped his hands back to tangle around one another between his knees and shrugged one shoulder up high as he leaned into his elbows, “You all should know by now that Hobbits are made of pretty sturdy stuff,” He looked around them, seeing a few nods, “We can take a pretty big fall, give a mean kick if we need to, climb trees fairly quickly, even run clear across the grasslands when there’s something there to chase us.”

 

“Aye, almost outran Bombur,” Bofur mused, getting another chuckle from some.

 

Bilbo smiled crookedly at the dwarf with his silly grey hat, “Yes, well, you also know that we have our faults. We don’t like to be unnecessarily dirty, we can’t stay underground like dwarves, we like our green things,” There were a few grunts here and Fili even made a face at the idea, “And you see, we don’t swim very well either. Most Hobbits don’t know how to swim at all, and our bodies are so heavy that we often just sink immediately. That swim through Lake Town really took it out of me! If it weren’t for Dwalin I doubt I would have made it as far as we have.”

 

Dwalin received a good slap on the back from a few of the nearest dwarves and a cheer from the others that had him puff up in pride, “He wasn’t too heavy. I’ve carried hammers with more weight.”

 

Bilbo picked back up once the others started to taper off again, “Our other fault only comes through in the winter when the snow is too high. We sink in snow and it’s near impossible to get back out of it without some help. So you can imagine, a hobbit with the strongest urge to be outside, getting himself stuck in the snow, having to basically swim through it to get anywhere without letting anyone else know he’s out there. It was a very cold and uncomfortable feeling. I had snow in places I thought it would never reach, and that’s being polite about it!

 

“But once I was out of the drift that blocked my doorway the snow was thin enough that you could stomp through it easily and get to where you wanted to go. I’m certain I looked like a fool, jumping up and down in the center of the street, just wasting all of the energy that I had pent up inside me. I was outside! It was as quiet as it would be in the break of a snowstorm but I was outside, and I was going to go and have myself an adventure! I’d go to Farmer Maggot’s fields and then come right back, that was my plan. Just far enough to stretch my legs and get some fresh air about me and then right back home for lunch. With luck, I would be back before anyone had realized I left- sweep up the snow and mop away the water too.”

 

Bilbo heaved a sigh, “I was a fool. As soon as I had left the row of houses, going down into the market they had found me. Now it seems silly that I was terrified for my life, running from wolves. I’ve fought trolls- got caught by them too, but outsmarted them. We’ve been chased by wargs, trapped by goblins, stalked by orcs, captured by elves, poisoned by spiders…. All of these things I will look back on and remember that I was able to find enough courage to stand my ground and find a way out. But with the wolves- those wolves still haunt me. I didn’t have anything to protect myself, nor did I have anyone there to save me. I ran like a panicking rabbit looking for the nearest burrow to hide in until the wolves would tire and leave.

 

“There wasn’t a burrow, there wasn’t a tree that I could climb- I had run away from the party tree in the center of town, without thinking about how easy it would be to find my escape there in its bare limbs. I lost my footing in a taller portion of snow on the path and found myself surrounded by white. I had fallen into the false security the wolves gave us, and ran the first chance that I had.” He felt like he could still remember the cold feeling of being buried in snow with the hot pant of wolves down his neck and over his heels. It made his stomach churn, “They dug for me and ripped right through the back of my coat and shirts, down to the bone with their claws. I doubt I have to describe the pain, you all have plenty of scars to know.”

 

Balin, in particular, rubbed at his knee as he remembered the pain of being caught off guard in battle. Bifur reached up and gently touched the scar tissue around his ax. When had he come back? Gloin scratched around his ribs in a way that he thought was inconspicuous but Bilbo could see it for what it was as murmurs agreed with him, “The snow had packed down enough that the Rangers were able to patrol again, even if it had just been a short trip before it froze over and turned to ice. I was just near the roads when they came past, horses rushing through snow and arrows sailing to bury into wolf hide and snow drifts. It was a loud and obnoxious thing to listen to, especially without being able to see anything happening.”

 

He blinked away the memories and the phantom pains that flared into his back and shoulder blades. It was true that the wounds had healed back nicely, leaving just a few wide marks that hiccupped over ribs and snagged on other bones. It ached whenever he thought back on that day or the weeks he had to suffer in bed with a fever and all of the attention his parents could possibly afford him. A chill still ran down his spine if he heard a howl- even just the short howl of a dog. It felt silly but Bilbo just couldn’t shake it.

 

He chuckled and patted his knees, letting his fingers drum against them, “Mother did chew my ear off about the snow in the front hall once I woke up. I don’t know how they found my smial, or if my parents had been looking for me, but I was grateful to be in a bed, despite not being able to sleep on my back. I didn’t even think about leaving home afterward until the last of the snow melted off and all we could see was green once things started to sprout again.”

 

There was a long drawn out pause accented by the lazy crackle of the fire and he wondered if maybe he had said something worthy of such silence. He was attacked by a wolf, what could have been awing about that? “Will you tell us about your adventures?” It was Bofur again, prompting him for a story, and Bilbo opened his mouth to politely decline. Except… There they were again, staring at him expectantly, some with wistful looks and others just curious about what a young hobbit desired to find outside of his gardens and books. Bifur went so far as to sit down and nestle back into one of the other pieces of rubble near their campfire like he was interested in a story as well- and not just one that he stepped into half way.

 

“Something, preferably, without elves, if you wouldn’t mind laddie,” Balin chuckled and sounds of agreement were passed around the pit again. “I think we’ve had our fill of elves for the time being.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one came late! I actually don't have much of a good reason for the delay, sadly. I just suffered a great ol' writer's block for the chapter so I had to pull out some tried and true techniques to push past it... Without actually pushing past it. I promise we'll get through the battle soon and into recovery! For now, I hope this satisfies your desires, even if technically all Bilbo did was weave a tale and not plait someone's hair! Nothing from Thorin for now, but maybe next chapter, yes?


	14. Sutures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to update this. I went on a bit of a hiatus for no reason other than my selfishness. Well, selfishness and health.
> 
> I'm not sure how much more there will be to this story but I do hope that I will be able to finish it sooner rather than later. In all honesty, I'm surprised I managed to write as much as I have!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and that you all aren't too awfully upset with me! It was a bit longer but I wanted to save a part of this chapter for the start of the next. (:

“Hobbit.”

 

He had tried to leave again the next day after filling the night with little stories about the shire. The company had neglected their treasure hunting duties in favor of listening to their smallest, bravest member tell tales of the old forest, of play sword fights with his cousins, of the stories his mother would tell him when he was a young faunt when it was too dark and stormy outside to play. He even told them about his run-in with one of the largest pumpkins he had ever seen in his life, and how it had nearly painted the party tree orange when it fell from the wobbling wheelbarrow it was riding.

 

And here he was on the ramparts once more with a dwarf at his back, tone low and commanding in a way that still made his toes curl as he thought back on the male he had grown to care for so deeply over their journey. His eyes stayed locked on the barely hidden roofs of the spires that dotted and lined Dale while he considered if he should turn around and face the ache that steadily grew in his chest. His fingers tightened around the straps of his bag thrown over his shoulders and he bowed his head. He was still a Baggins, even if it was uncomfortable he had to endure it.

 

His feet scuffed over the crumbling stone as he turned and lifted his head to see Thorin standing there, robes as dark and ornate as a prized raven. Chevrons of gold, thick bands of gleaming metals and gemstones clinging to his fingers and neck. Crownless, yet not. Bilbo burned the image of the reclaimed kingdom backlighting the dwarf before him into his mind and tried to picture _his king_ instead of this maddened and crazed dwarf who possessed him. “King Under the Mountain,” Bilbo replied, tone tired yet politely formal as he tried not to fidget.

 

“You would leave without company? Without a farewell?” Thorin’s voice held a tone to it that made Bilbo dreadfully hopeful but he stayed where he was standing. This dwarf could easily have a lapse of clarity and then fall back into the gold-mirrored cages of his dragon sickness in the bat of an eye. No, Bilbo had to give up on hope if he ever wanted to leave.

 

“You commanded everyone back to the treasury to continue their search, and I have already given them my farewells. Kili prolonged my departure yesterday, it would be best if I started on my way back now. I thought to ask if a small scouting party would be able to accompany me from Dale to the edges of Mirkwood, as I intended to stop there and speak with Bard. He’ll likely send for more aid from the elves soon.” Bilbo lifted his hand to rub at his shoulder and looked over the other to spy on the soft whispers of smoke that rose and faded past the nearby ridge.

 

Thorin took a half step toward him and his attention immediately snapped back to him. Something about his expression must have stopped the king, forcing him to withdraw the small progress he had made forward. “Balin spoke of riding with you and taking word to the Blue Mountains. You would be much safer with him accompanying you the entire journey,” Bilbo watched as Thorin’s attention rose to his brassy curls. His shoulders sagged in defeat, only a few millimeters, but enough for the hobbit to notice.

 

He thought back on the three makeshift beads he had left in the vault and swallowed as he tried to resist the desire to reach up and smooth the untamed curls framing the sides of his face. The gentle weight of Fili and Kili’s handy work reassured him that their braids were still neatly in place. What a sight he must make! A hobbit dressed in the clothing of men, hair tangled up in the style of dwarves, an elvish sword at his hip. The shire likely wouldn’t recognize him when he rounds the bend past the trees.

 

“I wouldn’t want to burden him. Master Balin needs time to recover from the last journey, and I doubt that the men of Dale would take kindly to dwarves right now,” Thorin looked away at the silent jab to how he had treated them after their hardship. “For now it may be safer for me to leave the mountain by myself and see what I can do with my own means.”

 

Bilbo could see the gleam of golden hair from behind one of the pillars framing the rampart wall and sighed again. “Though your heir seems to have other thoughts,” The hair snapped back behind the wall before blue eyes looked at them sheepishly from his hiding place. Fili eventually stepped fully into their line of sight, a pack slung over his shoulder and a spare sword sheathed and gripped in his hand.

 

“I’m going with you. Our raven came back last night from Amad and she approves the idea. In a few months time, a caravan of dwarves will head for Erebor to return home and they’ll pass around Hobbiton to find additional supplies in Bree.” Fili shuffled his bag slightly so he could reach into his coat and retrieve the folded parchment with Dis’ seal stamped onto it, “She would like a few members of the company to backtrack the path to ensure it’s safe enough for little ones to follow.”

 

He delivered the letter to Thorin’s hand when it stretched out toward him, and then the blonde was standing beside the hobbit, a determined look on his face as he watched Thorin read over the letter. A frown marred Thorin’s face but Bilbo saw no other negative reaction as he took in the news. “The Ur and Ri families have offered their service to form a party and answer her request.” Fili tacked on as the paper was folded once more.

 

“I will not send them, not all of them,” Bilbo raised a questioning brow as he continued to wonder if this king was still sick. Previously he would have fully refused them without compromise in any space. He would have accused them of slacking their responsibilities to the crown by abandoning the hunt for the Arkenstone. And yet now… Now Thorin looked able to think clearly even as tiredness pulled at his face.

 

“We’ll have Nori, Bofur, Oin, and Dwalin escort you to the shire.” Thorin handed the letter back to Fili, being careful not to come too close to Bilbo, though the hobbit almost wished he had. “Kili will stay here to help with repairs along with the others. Go tell them. Master Baggins will be leaving soon, and you will need to find a safe place to camp before dark.” Fili was gone almost immediately, leaving his pack and sword at Bilbo’s feet as he went to gather the other four dwarves.

 

They were left alone again, and Bilbo couldn’t tamp down the flutter of hope in his chest the longer he stared at Thorin’s back. He hadn’t changed out of his kingly uniform, but he was certainly different. “You’ve changed,” He found himself saying.

 

Thorin’s head dipped before he slowly turned back to look at him. Bilbo searched his face as the king stared at his own, “Not soon enough, it seems.” A hesitant hand reached up to softly clasp one of the beads between his fingers. “I’ve lost something far too precious.”

 

Even here in the chilling shadow of the mountain, he could feel the radiating warmth that came from Thorin’s hand and he wanted nothing more than to step forward and lean into him. He wanted to believe that this sickness was over and that he could just return to the other’s side without regret. He couldn’t. There was too much uncertainty for him to ignore it and stay.

 

Thorin’s hand fell from where it had been twisting the bead between his fingers, to retrieve something from a hidden pocket, “The inside of a mountain is no place for a hobbit…. But I hope that you might return once we’ve rebuilt. You will be welcomed with open arms should you wish it,” His hand came back with another bead- one that was different than all of the others that had been given to him. It was a beautiful piece of ebony wood, dark and lacquered with a delicate pattern carved into its surface. The design reminded him of the beads Fili and Kili wore, and yet it was different. Fragments of emeralds were embedded into what he presumed was the front and back, lined in the thinnest curves of silver he had ever seen.

 

Bilbo stood in stunned silence as it was placed in his palm before Thorin folded his fingers over it and stepped back, “Stay safe on your journey home, Master Baggins.”

 

He had every intention of demanding an explanation of what Thorin was doing exactly, giving him this bead- which he had no idea what it meant- and how he had managed to come out of his sickness when the clatter of armor sounded across the thin stretch of plains in front of Erebor. He turned to catch the glint and glimmer of ethereal gold figures marching in a neat, uniform line with Thranduil stationed at the front ranks on a massive elk-like creature. And at his side? Bard.

 

~~~

 

He wasn’t able to leave. He didn’t know exactly when or how he had come to Gandalf’s side, but he was grateful to have someone nearby who was more skilled at swordsmanship compared to his own panicked stabs at the enemy. Somehow they had made a truce between the dwarves in Erebor, the dwarves who came to their aid from the Iron Hills, the men of Dale, and the elves of Mirkwood. Somehow, they were staving off the attackers.

 

The Arkenstone weighed heavy in his coat pocket as he fought; a lingering worry that should he die on the battlefield and his pockets turned out, that Thorin would lose his birthright as king under the mountain. He was a fool for having thought he could smuggle it out and bring him back to his senses- now look at him! Standing in a bloodied field, taking out the knees of unsuspecting orcs and slashing at the maws of wargs as he tries to keep close to the overwhelmingly tall figure of the wizard that had been away the entire time.

 

Bilbo could hear the war cries of his companions as they fought together to protect the mountain and those around them. He just wished that he could see them all. The shouts of Dain as he took on his opponents as though this were all just a stroll through the market had a small smile playing on his face. The absurdity of dwarves!

 

The battle carried on and shifted from Erebor to the gates of Dale, acting like waves crashing against the ridges of the mountain, rushing back and forth as each side fought one another to ensure their own victories. And then the elves retreated, leaving man and dwarf to fend for themselves as the battle waned to favor the orcs and dark creatures attacking them.

 

He didn’t know when it had happened, and to be frank, he couldn’t particularly remember the specifics of how he had managed it, but he stood on the crested ridge of Raven Hill, out of breath and frantic to find anyone familiar. There was a glint from the ice and he caught sight of Dwalin standing there with Thorin and his sister-sons, unaware of the ambush poised to strike them down.

 

~~~

 

There was a thick weight pressing over the entirety of his body that he was slowly becoming more and more aware of. It tucked under his chin and weighed down his feet, and he felt like he was going to boil alive in his own sweat. His eyebrows pinched together and he fluttered his eyes open, disoriented by the blazing fire beside him and the pitched roof of gathered fabric overhead. “It’s been over two weeks, Oin.” A persistent ache started in his head, thrumming slowly with the beat of his heart and working its way down his body. He groaned as his ribs lit up in agony and was soon met with the sound of boots rushing into his tent.

 

Thick fingers pulled away the cloth that had been pressed against his forehead, quickly replaced with a dreadfully warm hand and the strong astringent scent of herbs and medicines, “He still has a fever,” Oin, Bilbo thought, though the rushing through his ears made it hard for him to tell exactly.

 

Another hand, more familiar than the last slid under the covers to grip his hand, shaking but strong with hope and worry. His own fingers twitched softly against it and he heard a shuddering exhale as weight dipped the edge of the bed. He managed to open his eyes again and look down just enough to see the worn face of one Thorin Oakenshield.

 

Bilbo could comfortably say that Thorin looked terrible. A gash across his forehead and down his cheek reminded him of some far off memory. The glint of metal and a vicious grin of sharp teeth. He closed his eyes again and swallowed drily, “What…” His voice came out in a hushed rasp and tore at his throat painfully. He grimaced and didn’t try to speak again.

 

“You’re alive,” The words were painted in grateful relief and Bilbo wasn’t quite sure but he thought it sounded like Thorin had sniffed. His thumb rubbed circles over his knuckles, warm soothing and gentle. It pulled the weakest smile to Bilbo’s lips.

 

Oin stepped back over to his bedside and ordered Thorin to help Bilbo sit up. They didn’t need any help from him- not that he thought he could do anything in the first place. He was lifted into a sitting position and then Thorin’s body was behind his own, holding him, helping him stay comfortable as the healer poured a thin liquid down his throat. It was warm and bitter, but Bilbo drank it obediently between breaths. “This will fight the infection and bring down your fever, Lad. Try not to move too much.” Bilbo gave Oin a dulled look that asked him if he really thought he could move at all.

 

He expected Thorin to lay him back down but the king stayed, cradling him and stroking his fingers over the curve of his elbow like he was made of the most breakable thing in the world. Right now he almost felt like it. “What happened?” He managed to croak, glad that the potion –and he was going to call it a potion, it tasted awful - managed to wet his throat enough for him to get the words out.

 

The calloused fingers on his oddly bare skin hesitated, “Tell me what you remember.” The words puffed out warmly against the top of his shoulder and Bilbo would have shuddered if he had the energy.

 

He thought back to what he could picture, the last smell or sound, the last sight. Whirlpools of muddied sound crept to his ears but he couldn’t make it out, could hear the urgency but couldn’t tell who was saying it, if there were five voices or one shouting at him. A snippet of Azog’s fierce grin had him blanching before a bottomless sensation entered the pit of his stomach, “Azog,” He breathed, the word barely even a whisper on his lips. He could remember the orc but he couldn’t remember _why_ he was seeing him.

 

“You rescued Fili somehow. He said that you just appeared in front of him, sliced his binds and told him to run.” Inklings of that memory slipped to the forefront, murky and faint but it felt true. He nodded enough to tell Thorin to continue. The king cupped his fingers over Bilbo’s forearm, “Kili nearly ran inside the towers but you had stopped him and sent him back to me.” Bilbo remembered possibly shoving Kili back onto the ice and the worried expression the young dwarf had on his face. Worried, confused but relieved.

 

“And while the ambush rained down upon us… It was you who came to my aid,” Thorin’s voice wavered and Bilbo wished he could do better to move his body. He pushed an arm made of stone across his lap to touch the back of Thorin’s hand who in turn took it like he was a lifeline. “It was you, Bilbo. And you nearly died for me. You took a blow that wasn’t meant for you. I should have been the one so that you wouldn’t be here this way.” A warm forehead pressed against the back of his shoulder and neck as Thorin relived what must have been what he thought was his last memories of the hobbit.

 

“You…. Would have… died,” He murmured. The four words were taxing to form, and Bilbo could feel the pain starting to ebb away as Oin’s _potion_ worked through his system. He sunk further against Thorin’s strength and hummed quietly, the noise soft against the heavy crackle of the fire. He started to fade back into unconsciousness as the thundering sound of dwarves rushing over the grass prickled his ears. He caught the blur of shapes at the flap as five tumbled in on top of each other and smiled faintly as sleep claimed him again.

 

The next time he was pulled out of his dreamless sleep, someone was tugging lightly at his hair. A rhythmic pattern was found and he realized it was the same one that had been used to put in the two braids on either side of his head. Slow and careful and meticulous. A set of whispers keyed in next, apparently mid-conversation, “- pretty isn’t he?”

 

“He looks much better when he isn’t on death’s door, amad.”

 

“Well, I’ll have to wait and see that for myself.”

 

“Shush, you’ll wake him!” Fili’s voice snapped, soft but right near his head. Bilbo smiled and felt the tugging come to a sudden stop.

 

“Little late,” He mumbled, hearing an amused snort to his left. Fili fumbled with the end of his braid for a moment before Bilbo heard the gentle snick of the bead being placed. He wanted to pat Fili on the head for doing it up again but he was still caught under the mound of warm covers.

 

“Sorry, it’s just… We’re happy you’re alive,” Fili’s tone was sincere and it was enough to get Bilbo to finally look at him. A dark bruise covered his cheekbone and his lip was split but well into healing. He could see the hint of bandages peering out of his collar and hoped that it wasn’t anything too serious.

 

“You should be resting,” His words drew a watery smile out of the prince and Bilbo was sure he heard another amused sound from the corner of his tent before Kili was looming over him. The brunette was just as battered as his brother but no less alive. Bilbo noticed that their hair had been redone and they were both thankfully clean. He didn’t know if he could muster the strength to be upset at them for staying bloodied up from the battle. He knew how they were, it was near impossible to get them to bathe regularly, and completely impossible to get them out of the water once they were in it. “You too.”

 

Kili grinned and settled down on the opposite edge of his brother, “That’s not fair. You’re not allowed to order us while you’re recovering.”

 

Bilbo sighed and winced as it made his torso twinge in pain, “Think I should do it more, now that I can’t tame you two.” Fili didn’t miss his expression and was quick to get up and find something for Bilbo to drink. It was that bitter potion mix Oin had made again, but he couldn’t complain too much. He let them help raise him up enough to drink it and finally caught a glimpse of the dwarrowdame who had been lingering at the foot of his bed. “You look just like them,” He caught himself saying.

 

A brilliant grin slipped over her face and Bilbo smiled back, “I’m glad I was able to meet you, Lady Dis.” It hurt his throat to talk so much but he was glad that it was getting easier as time passed. He hoped he would be able to stay awake longer than the last time.

 

“Trust me, the pleasure is mine, Mister Baggins. I’ve heard that you’ve been keeping my family safe on this foolish journey. And it seems you’ve been keeping them well groomed as well. Those two keep simpering about the loss of your attention. Best get better soon before I throttle them myself for their childishness.” Bilbo got out one huff of a laugh before it pitched into a whine as it twinged his injuries. He was quickly laid back down with worried glances and anxious touches to his shoulders.

 

“I suppose I should. Though they missed you just as dearly, if not even more, while we were traveling. It is surprising to see you here so shortly after the battle.”

  


There was a long swath of silence- or perhaps it was short, he couldn't tell the time- before she replied, "It'd been plenty long enough for us to make it here. We left earlier than expected when a distressed raven appeared with messages of war."

  


Bilbo let that news sink in and tried to piece together the amount of time he had been out. He came up blank, but somehow he had a feeling it had been more than just two weeks. It was much more likely that he had been laying in this bed for the last two months at this rate unless Lady Dis had found herself a more prompt form of transportation. The faint thought of her riding Radagast's sled through the wilderness crossed his mind, but he quickly put that to rest.

 

“Master Oin said you should be able to eat something once you’re able to stay awake for more than two hours,” Kili broke him from his thoughts and he looked so hopeful when he spoke that Bilbo looked at him fondly. The brunette twiddled his fingers in his lap and Bilbo felt a soft warmth settle over his chest at the sight of his nerves.

 

Cautious eyes flicked up to him and Bilbo could see a smirk rising on Fili’s face from the corner of his eye, “Would you like to weave a little healing spell?” Bilbo asked, lips twitching upwards at the light that seeped into his expression. He turned his head a little to give Kili room and almost immediately felt fingers at work, undoing what had been there last and finger-combing through to unravel the plait.

 

Dis chuckled and pat the tops of his feet, thankfully a place on his body that didn’t hurt to touch, “You’ve got them wrapped around your fingers. You best be careful how much slack you give them, these two will get you into plenty of trouble otherwise.“

 

“You’re a little late to warn me,” Bilbo admitted. The dwarves looked sheepishly at their mother and Bilbo had a feeling they left some important parts of their journey out of their letters. But Dis didn’t question him about it and he didn’t feel quite ready to wax about their adventuring. “But they’re good lads. They were raised well.”

 

“I see you have a knack for flattery, Mister Baggins. Perhaps we should have you lording over the conferences once you’re further down the road to recovery,” Bilbo rose an eyebrow at the thought. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the idea of battling dignitaries with word and wit alone. The idea that Dis suggested it without even knowing who he has raised his curiosity more. Had they been talking about him while he was asleep?

 

Kili clipped his bead back into place and smiled triumphantly as he deemed his work finished. Bilbo smiled up at him again and took a slow, deep breath, “We’ll have to play that one by ear. Not many of the big folk will take a Hobbit seriously.”

 

“Not any ordinary hobbit, I’m sure.” There was a knowing tone to her voice that had him itching to sit up and look at her, but he stayed where he was. He knew he was too weak, and he also knew that whatever work Oin had put into him would be undone if he tried it, “We’ll see which path you choose.”


	15. Trust

Between one period of awareness and the next Bilbo had been transplanted into a new bed, somewhere inside of the mountain. He remembered waking up to hear nothing more than the crackle of the fire and the occasional pair of boots walking past his door. He remembered turning his head and seeing the vacant chair pulled up to his bedside, the nightstand with a pitcher of water, and the other table off to the corner with a half dozen things scattered across it. He went back to sleep.

 

The next time he woke, Balin was sitting in the chair beside him, holding a worn out journal against his belly as he read and smoked his pipe. If the hobbit were honest with himself he never would have expected Balin to come sit with him, not when he thought the kingdom was being rebuilt anyway. “Master Balin,” Bilbo greeted. Surprise registered on Balin’s face before a warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and Bilbo returned it without much effort. “What brings you here?”

 

“Well, other than the peace and quiet? I heard you’ve been able to stay awake longer recently. Wanted to come have a chat with you, but you were asleep.” Balin puffed one more time on his pipe before snuffing it out and setting it on the nightstand. Bilbo slowly worked himself back into the pillows until he was sitting propped up against them with the covers pulled in close to his sides. Someone had been kind enough to dress him in a tunic- once again far too large for him- and he was thankful to have the layer of warmth in the brisk room. Perhaps that was the nature of stone? Or his fire had been allowed to go out for some time and had recently been rekindled, he wasn’t certain.

 

“What might be on your mind?” Bilbo smoothed the covers over his lap and looked up in time to see Balin resettle in his seat after turning it to face him better.

 

The old dwarf looked him over as he took in a swelling, deep breath, “I suppose I wanted to talk about some delicate matters.” There was this look on his face that had Bilbo wondering what he might have done to upset the dwarf, or what might be so important that he was willing to waste his day waiting for him to wake up.

 

“I see. Has something happened?” Bilbo anxiously threaded his fingers into the soft fur pelt that was stretched over the cotton and wool blankets.

 

“Nothing too unusual, I’d say. However,” Balin pursed his lips as he thought how best to put his words. Bilbo gave him the time, though the longer Balin took to speak, the more anxious he felt. “When we were able to get to the top of Ravenhill, we found the five of you. Fili and Kili were helping Thorin and Dwalin was carrying you down.”

 

Bilbo nodded, having heard the story before.

 

“Once you were safe inside a tent to be healed my brother pulled me aside and brought this out to my attention.” Balin snuck his hand in between many layers of cloth and when it came back out, Bilbo felt a chill race down his spine at the sight. “He mentioned that it had been in one of your pockets.”

 

The Arkenstone sat in Balin’s palm, glowing and whirling like a small briny sea had been trapped inside of it. Bilbo swallowed and looked away from it as the words crashed through his memories. Smaug’s taunting echoed in his head as well as flashes of Thorin’s greedy gaze as he stared into his treasure lit up the back of his eyelids with each blink. “It was with me,” Bilbo admitted. He sounded as weak as that stone made him feel. He felt guilty for having hidden it for so long.

 

“How long have you had this, Master Baggins?”

 

Bilbo took a shaky inhale, “Ever since we drove Smaug from the hoard. Ever since he threatened that it would seal Thorin’s dragon-sickness and make it so we would never be able to bring him back to himself.”

 

Silence met him and for a while, Bilbo tried to let that soothe him despite how much he knew he had messed up. He took the Arkenstone out of the mountain. The only thing that could have proven Thorin’s birthright to his people, and Bilbo had carelessly took it to battle with him. “So you’ve kept this from him in the hopes that we could break him free of the gold trance.”

 

“Yes.” It hadn’t been a question, but Bilbo answered anyway. He clenched the fur he had been playing with and swallowed thickly, “I had no desire to keep it. If I had been on the road and discovered it on me, I’m sure I would have given it to one of you to do with what you thought was best. Take it back to Thorin, bring it to Lady Dis, bury it somewhere deep and dark and never think of it again. I wouldn’t have cared,” No, that was a lie. He chanced a look at Balin, “Well if you brought it back to him while he was still ill, I might have blamed myself. As I blame myself now for nearly losing something that is clearly so precious to your people.”

 

Balin nodded slowly as he took in Bilbo’s words, and flipped the stone over between his hands. Bilbo refused to even give it a second glance. All that stone had brought him was misery while it was in his presence. He wanted nothing to do with how it was handled, and he certainly didn’t want to see the look of betrayal Thorin would wear once he heard that Bilbo held it all this time.

 

“It was certainly reckless to have taken it out of the mountain,” Bilbo flinched as Balin agreed, jumping a second time at the presence of a hand wrapping around his forearm, “But you have done this kingdom a service by protecting our king from its poison. I couldn’t be more grateful to you for that. A lesser being would have brought it to him straight away, seeking his gratitude and hoping for a reward in return when he was ill. You chose to suffer while he fought his way back. Very few would have lasted as long as you, lad.”

 

“Master Dwalin must be furious with me,” Bilbo sniffed. It wasn’t that he was upset the warrior would hate him for what he had done. No, it was that someone _understood_ why he had done it in the first place. He felt foolish for hiding it from Balin, especially after they had their discussion in one of the many side rooms. He should have trusted him then to say he found the heart of the mountain… But he had been suspicious and far too high strung to see how easy it would have been to share his burden with the then-grieving scholar.

 

“Aye, he was. His first thought had been that you took your contract to heart and had truly stolen it. He wanted to report it as soon as Thorin had recovered, but as that approached I managed to talk some sense into him. He wasn’t blind to what had happened with Thorin, and he mentioned wanting to give you a chance to explain since you sacrificed yourself for him on more than one occasion.” Balin’s voice was steady and soothing, and Bilbo felt it ease the knot that had tightened in his chest. Dwalin could be reasoned with, so long as he wasn’t making time-sensitive decisions.

 

He sniffed quietly again and was embarrassed that he was overcome with emotions to the point of blurry eyes, but he smiled at Balin anyway, “I had no intentions of taking it, Master Balin,” He reiterated softly. Balin moved to rest his hand over Bilbo’s shin since it was the closest to him and squeezed his understanding once more. Bilbo raised his arm to wipe the wetness from the corners of his eyes and huffed out a weak laugh.

 

“Has he still been looking for it after the battle?” Bilbo finally asked softly. Thorin had a right to claim it, but the hobbit still worried that if he were to lay eyes on it the King would eventually lose himself to his gold sickness again. After everything they had been through he doubted his heart would be able to withstand that happening again, but what was he to do? The other dwarves refused to accept him as king without the blasted thing as far as he knew. It would have to be found eventually.

 

“He has, but not with as much effort,” Balin tucked it back into his folds and Bilbo felt a weight lift off of him just with the Arkenstone being out of sight. “I feel that it would be a good idea to bury it in the gold and have someone else find it to bring to him, aye?”

 

Bilbo looked relieved, if only for a moment before he felt that expression slowly fall. He thought it over and shook his head as one thing became clear to him. “No. No, I… He should know. If we hide it and lose it again it will only cause him more grief, and I don’t want him to point his fingers at anyone undeserving of it. Not again,” He took a slow breath, still trying to find the limits of how far he could expand his lungs and released it shakily. “Give it to me. I’ll return it to him if you wouldn’t mind asking him to come here when he’s able.”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever figure out hobbits,” Balin said fondly, his soft expression lingering as he stared at Bilbo. He sat there for a while before letting a loud breath pass through his nose, “Is this what you really want, laddie? I’ve known Thorin all his life and not even I could tell you how he will take the news.”

 

His fingers smoothed out the furs again and Bilbo pursed his lips, thinking it over once more, “Yes. I’m sure. If I stay and we bury it back in the vault, I feel that it would cut him more to later find out that his closest friends had all lied to him about it. And he would eventually find out. Lies like to air themselves.” And despite how much Bilbo found himself to loathe the heart of the mountain, he couldn’t bring himself to keep it from their leader either.

 

Balin reached back into his clothes and deposited the Arkenstone in Bilbo’s lap, watching as his hands quickly tucked it into the folds of fur over his legs to keep it hidden. It wasn’t going to be an easy task for Bilbo to handle, but they could only hope that it would be a truth that Thorin could stand after everything that had happened. They spoke for a while longer, catching up on Bilbo’s recovery and what all has changed inside the mountain since reparations began. Balin mentioned having Bilbo’s borrowed blue coat brought back to him, as well as all of the little trinkets the hobbit managed to save over their journey. Especially that comb, even if it were of elvish make.

 

~~~

 

When Thorin finally came to his rooms, Bilbo was wrapped in one of the spare furs that sat at the foot of the bed,  with his back against the headboard, and a warm cup of medicinal tea laced between his fingers. The steam carried up into his face, and Bilbo was relieved that the most dominant smell was mint, though he wasn’t quite sure why mint was included. Oin likely wanted to prevent any further fevers- if only it worked that way.

 

He lifted the cup to his lips and took a long draft from it, hearing a faint knock on the door just before it opened. He pulled the cup away from his lips and watched as Thorin slipped through the doorway, closing the heavy door softly behind him. Sapphire eyes stayed locked on him and Bilbo offered up a smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” He said in way of greeting, motioning for the king to take a seat in the chair that Balin had vacated hours ago.

 

He did so, sitting slowly and resting his hands on his knees as he took in Bilbo’s slightly more pink parlor, washed out against the dark sable fur that pulled out the warm red tones of his hair, “You were sleeping during most of the times I had to myself...” Thorin watched as Bilbo sipped softly and then put his cup down on the bedside table, “I came to keep you company but didn’t want to wake you.”

 

The hobbit wished that Thorin _had_ woke him when he was there. He could be the one who visited him most often but Bilbo wouldn’t know if he wasn’t awake to see him there. He wanted to say as much, but the weight of the Arkenstone lingered in the forefront of his mind. They weren’t there for idle chit-chat and Thorin had never been one to talk about the small things, even after he had warmed up to Bilbo on the Carrock. “Did Balin tell you why I wanted to speak with you?”

 

Thorin’s brows tugged down and his lips tilted under the edges of his mustache, “No.”

 

Bilbo looked down at his hands and took a steadying breath, “I don’t expect it to be news well received,” He admitted softly, fingers clenching around one another tightly. He waited for some form of prompting from Thorin, but none came, and he couldn’t bring himself to look up at him.

 

“I hid your birthright,” He felt the words come out of his mouth slowly like someone had coated them in a bitter honey, “When we reclaimed the mountain from Smaug… The treasure I took from him to stir him from his hoard was the Arkenstone.” He swallowed thickly around the rest of the words that clogged in his throat and chanced a look at his dwarf.

 

Thorin was silent, lips pressed thinly, and fingers clutching at his kneecaps to the point that his nails turned white and his knuckles strained under the pressure. His eyes were closed tightly, but not pinched as he took in and held a long, deep breath. Bilbo wondered if he should brace himself for what he felt was to be the end of their relationship- whatever it was now. His stomach twisted sickly and he sat tensely, just waiting.

 

When Thorin finally released his breath, his hands loosened their grip and he looked at the dark ceiling above them, “You feared it would seal my sickness.” His voice wavered, and Bilbo regretted everything that had transpired since the moment he found that damned rock.

 

“I did. I still do,” He whispered, and turned his gaze back to his lap, to the folded brown fur over his legs where the Arkenstone was tucked away, mocking him. “But I also know that what I did wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to the company because they spent days searching for it at your command but… The Arkenstone is proof to your people that you are meant to rule. I had no right to keep that from you,” It was hard to keep his voice steady as he wrung his hands.

 

He hesitated then, and considering Thorin had returned to silence, he figured he should finish his tale before the king surely stormed out of the room. He no doubt would be cast from the mountain, and though the thought wrecked him, he accepted it as his fate. “After some time I forgot that I had it. After the way we behaved in the vault I just wanted to get away. I wanted to lick my wounds in peace thinking that there was nothing I could do to pull you back to your senses.

 

“I would like to think I would have returned it to you on the ramparts, when I realized you had somehow managed to come back on your own,” The memory of Thorin draped in black and gold, without the heavy crown of his forefathers and with that clear expression finally back made him smile to himself. “But then the battle began, faster than I could have even thought, and we went to protect your home.”

 

His hands cinched against one another so firmly that he felt his arms shake and ache in protest, “I took the Arkenstone out of the mountain- where anyone could have easily taken it from me and you would have lost everything you fought for. The mountain would be claimed by another enemy and you would no longer be the king of Erebor, or the prince and that would have been _because of me_ -”

 

Hands were on his face then, cradling his jaw firmly as the bed dipped, Thorin moving closer and pulling his head up so he could look at him. So Bilbo would _look at him._ The hobbit realized he had started crying, but only when Thorin’s thumbs swept at his cheeks and wetness smeared over them. Impossibly blue eyes were so close- so very close- and the warmth of Thorin’s forehead pressed against his own, noses bumping. He didn’t relax into the touch despite how much he wanted to. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. “Bilbo.”

 

That was all Thorin said for a long while, just his name, softly and carried on a breath. It pulled his eyes closed and they stayed that way for who knew how long, with their foreheads touched together, Thorin’s thumbs occasionally swept away more fresh tracks of salty tears. He whispered it again and murmured it until Bilbo felt himself leaning into those hands, pressed his face into the over-warmed palms that met under his chin. He sagged forward until he was resting against Thorin’s shoulder, fingers tangling into the front of his tunic as he sniffled and tried to get his emotions back under control.

 

“What you did- keeping the Arkenstone- you were right to do it.” Bilbo shook his head and held tighter to Thorin’s front. A hand smoothed down the back of his head and tugged one of the braids that dangled behind his ears, “I fought my way past the sickness because you refused to give into it. Because you gave me a reason to want to come back when I thought I had lost one of the most important treasures of my life.”

 

It hurt to sit this way, folded over both of their legs just to snuffle into Thorin’s shoulder and the stray strands of his hair, but he didn’t care. “I shouldn’t have taken it out of the mountain,” The words were muffled by Thorin’s clothes but the dwarf squeezed him closer as though he understood what he was saying. He couldn't stop to think about his admission, about the way Thorin seemed to think of him.

 

“You had no choice.”

 

“I had every choice.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

Bilbo’s head lifted from Thorin’s shoulder and he drew back to look at him. Red rimmed eyes stared hard, and long as he traced his features with his gaze alone, “You do care, or you wouldn’t be looking for it.”

 

“I assume you have it still. It is safe, so I do not care.”

 

Thorin’s fingers twisted Fili’s braid between them and Bilbo tried not to be distracted by it, “It would be safer with you,” He breathed.

 

“But I would not be safe with it. I still feel the call of the gold in the vaults, I hear the silver whisper to me as I pass it by. I am not consumed with the greed that took me from you,” Thorin was quick to explain when Bilbo’s mouth popped open, “It has left an impression on me. I doubt I will ever be able to touch the riches of this kingdom without them trying to bring me back into my madness.”

 

Bilbo pursed his lips and flicked his eyes down to his lap, “I still have yet to see why the Arkenstone would be safe with _me._ Why you would want to trust it to me after what I've done.”

 

Thorin sighed at him and smoothed his hand over Bilbo’s cheek, and Bilbo watched him as he watched his freckles slip underneath his touch. “You are constantly protected by twelve of the noblest warriors I have ever known in my lifetime, Bilbo. And if you were to allow it, this fool of a soon-to-be-king would offer his service to you so that he might fulfill a promise he made to a hobbit in Lake Town, for however long that hobbit wishes it.”

 

Bilbo knew there had to have been a reason why he was fooling with his hair so much, but his heart still fluttered as he registered those words. This suddenly didn’t feel like it was about the Arkenstone, and it certainly should still be, but… Thorin’s eyes shifted between his hand and Bilbo’s face. He was waiting for him. He was _nervous_.

 

“Would you amend your promise?” Bilbo asked suddenly. Thorin’s brows formed a silent question, “Promise that you will _listen_ to this stubborn hobbit- even when you think that my advice is unnecessary, just at the very least listen to what I have to say if anything were to happen.”

 

Thorin’s hand dropped onto his shoulder and tightened, thumb pinching above his collarbone, “I promise to at the very least try.”

 

“Good,” Bilbo smiled tiredly and dug into the fur across his legs before presenting the Arkenstone to Thorin, pressing it into his stomach, “Then take this stone away from me. Show it to whatever council you must, and if you feel you cannot stand to have it either, then we will bury it back in the roots of this mountain, where it belongs and where no one else will find it.”

 

A brief look of wonder and awe passed over Thorin’s face as he looked down at the glimmering stone now in his possession. He passed his fingers over it before folding it into his palm. Bilbo knew what he was telling Thorin to do. He knew that giving the Arkenstone to him would either force him to struggle against the lingering effects of gold-sickness, or he would succumb to it. He knew that and yet Thorin accepted it before giving a firm nod, “We will give it back to the mountain. When you are properly healed, we will find a way to return it to the stone it came from.”

 

Bilbo didn’t think Thorin would agree so readily, but it eased the knot that had been resting inside him. It unfurled into the smallest tangle, one full of trepidation but longing to right what had been wronged between them. “I should rest then, so I recover quickly. Master Oin mentioned that I could start walking around for a few minutes a day come Highday. My body still aches but I look forward to the idea of leaving this room.”

 

“You should take your recovery slowly, so as not to hurt yourself,” Thorin’s tone chastised him but Bilbo just huffed softly in amusement. The king tucked the Arkenstone into his tunic where a hidden pocket lie, and then turned to help Bilbo lay back down among the pillows and furs and wool covers.

 

“Should I stay?” He asked once he had pressed the covers flat and draped the large sable fur behind him over the foot of the bed. Soft grey-blue eyes peered at him from under bronze lashes, and Bilbo stretched his hand out to lace between Thorin’s fingers. He admired Thorin's features again, the strong point of his nose, the crinkle of his beard, and the rivers of silver that lit up as they peered through his dark tresses. He hoped that one day he would be allowed to touch those again and braid them into the plaits he had made in Laketown.

 

“Yes. I’d like that very much.”

 

Thorin's lips curved upward and his eyes softened before he stretched out over the covers beside him and draped one warm arm over his chest, pulling him closer to rest his chin on top of his head. "I will stay as long as you allow it."

 

"Then you best get comfortable," Bilbo murmured, turning his head into Thorin's chest and resting his nose in the warm creases of his shirts, "I'll have you stay here for a long while, Thorin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that this would be a good place to end this story, I hope you don't mind too much! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my little snippets of writing. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I know I missed a few dwarfs for their moment under Bilbo's comb, but I might write future one-shots to capture those moments for our dwarves and turn this into a little collection.


End file.
